Soldiers
by Chellero
Summary: Finch and Reese receive a new number, and it's someone from Reese's past. Carter assists with the case and gets more than she bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Never would have gotten this started nor completed without wolfmusic218. Truly. Thanks, girl, as always. :)

* * *

"I'm afraid we may not have a choice, Mr. Reese."

Reese shook his head. "I'll put Fusco on it."

Finch sighed softly. He knew it was a sensitive subject for John—her relative safety and well-being—but he needed to push his friend to see the bigger picture. "Detective Carter is better equipped. She has the experience, the understanding. And she's quite capable, in case you've forgotten."

John glared at his partner. "I knew this guy, Finch. He's dangerous. A hothead."

Finch nodded, trying to show John that he was genuinely hearing his concerns. "I understand, Mr. Reese. But if we've learned one thing, it's that we shouldn't jump to conclusions. You were in the army together nearly twenty years ago." He looked at John pointedly. "People can change."

"Nobody changes." He let that hang between them before walking back over to the taped photograph of Tom Chapman, their new number, his former army comrade. "If his number's up, it's because he's up to something. I know it."

Harold sighed once more. The former soldier did know more about Chapman than he did. "Regardless, we need to make contact with him, and since you're legally dead, it can't be you. Mr. Chapman just started attending a VA support group in Brooklyn. Sending Detective Carter in is the only logical option if we wish to get close to him." Finch studied the back of John's head. "She got through to you, didn't she?"

Reese clenched his jaw as he stared at Chapman's picture. Harold was right but he didn't like it. At all. Guys like Chapman didn't change. If they sent Carter in on this and something happened to her…

"John, I'll have ears on her 24/7. And you'll have eyes, along with Detective Fusco. She'll be closely monitored whether Mr. Chapman turns out to be the threat. Or not." Finch waited several seconds, eyes lit on his partner's rigid frame. He allowed his thoughts, only for the briefest moment, to seriously question John's intentions when it came to the detective. His stalwart concern for and interest in her from the beginning made Finch wonder if even John understood what he was feeling.

Softly, John asked, "Where is she, Finch?"

Recognizing acquiescence in John's quiet tone, Finch pulled up the GPS map. "Looks like she's on her way to work." Reese turned to face him and Finch met his eyes. "Better hurry if you want to intercept her."

* * *

Joss climbed out of the driver's seat of her black Charger, phone to her ear, and started to make her way through the packed precinct parking lot toward the side door entrance. She sighed. "Ok, Taylor. You can go. But I want you home by eleven…...That's what I said…..Okay, well, then, just stay home…Uh huh…..Yeah, bye. Be careful." She had about two seconds to lament about teenagers before she received a text. _Across the street._ Looking around, she spotted him. Frowning—he didn't usually lurk around the precinct considering he was a wanted man—she detoured toward the street, waiting at the crosswalk for the signal to legally cross the street. She soon felt awkward, standing there waiting, because he kept his eyes trained on her the entire time. Uncomfortable, she looked away, down the street as the slight wind hit her face head on. She could already tell something wasn't right, and she started to rue the day she'd agreed to work with that maddening man.

When it was safe to cross the street, she looked in his direction again. He was still watching her but this time she noticed he was standing in front of the precinct's closest coffee shop. In spite of its proximity, no one went there because the coffee and service were unimpressive. In a force of habit move, she looked over her shoulder before addressing him. She shrugged both shoulders to indicate her puzzlement. "What's up?" Wordlessly, he headed into the coffee shop and she followed, grateful for the reprieve, however short, from his scrutiny. He headed toward a pub table in a corner and they settled themselves across from each other.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Not here." She waited a beat, noticing he was all business this morning. "What's going on?"

John leaned forward a bit, pulling a photo from his jacket pocket and sliding it across to her. "Finch and I need your help."

Joss looked at the military photo, expecting him to ask her to pull some information. "What do you need?"

"Tom Chapman. He was in my squad through '96."

She raised her eyebrows at that. "So you can't get too close to this one, huh?"

Reese nodded. "Not too much on him. He moved here in the last few weeks from Seattle. Never married, no children. He's been working in construction since his discharge. He attends a vet support group in Brooklyn on Chapel street."

Carter now understood why they wanted her instead of Fusco. And why John seemed on edge. His entire life was helping people, and he couldn't help a fellow brother in arms. "You want me to go to a meeting, see what I can find out about him."

John nodded again.

"You guys have any idea who might be trying to hurt him?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

She raised her eyebrows again. He caught her eyes and the force behind his caused her to lean back in her chair. She listened intently as he spoke measuredly.

"He was unhinged, Carter. Dangerous. Way too eager to kill. Probably still is."

"Court martial?"

"No. Honorable discharge. Somehow."

Carter looked down at the picture and nodded. They needed her help but, frankly, she didn't feel like dealing with any kind of craziness right now. Not to mention she had a day job that was currently running her ragged. She tried to tell herself that this was what she signed up for. And that if someone needed help and she didn't do all that she could, she could say goodbye to sleeping at night. But she wondered how far she would get with this guy. Maybe they _should_ send Fusco in instead.

Reese continued. "I'll be around, but I need you to be careful."

She sighed. "I will, John, but I don't know how far I'll get. This is some white guy, possibly off-balance…..I doubt he's gonna want to talk to me."

Reese shrugged his left shoulder. "I did."

She looked at him and decided he was not being deliberately obtuse about this situation. "You weren't off-balanced. Just…...sad."

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

She shook her head, looking at the photo of Chapman again. "Still….."

"Say the word, Carter. We'll figure something else out."

Something told her she should let them figure something else out. But that something else would probably include John blowing his cover. She had unfortunately enabled the CIA to find him after his "death." This guy was small potatoes compared to them, but she was extremely averse to allowing someone from his past to find him again. Knowing him the way that she did now, she couldn't handle him ever being hurt again because of something she did or didn't do. After several moments, she brought her face back up to his. "What time are his meetings?"

* * *

Joss slowly made her way out of the small room following the support group meeting. They had all sat in a semi-circle, Tom Chapman sitting opposite her. In order to draw attention to herself—as if being the only black veteran and only woman in the group wasn't enough—she'd decided to play her part to the hilt and opened up old wounds, telling the story that had resulted in her receiving the Purple Heart. She'd told the story before, having attended her fair share of support meetings following her discharge, but it always brought those feelings back. She could handle them easily enough now, but she always needed to take a few moments to shake them off afterward.

Chapman didn't speak during the meeting, apparently choosing to listen instead. She had observed him as inconspicuously as she could. He looked every bit of his forty-five years and she wondered what kind of life he'd led following the military. She wondered what Harold and John had found out about him since they'd briefed her earlier that day. She wondered what John was like when Chapman served with him. She wondered about John's comment earlier, about her not giving herself enough credit. Just how low exactly had he been when she met him?

Not wanting this endeavor to be a bust, she needed to at least attempt to make direct contact with Chapman and see if he was open to conversation. See if there was more John in him than she thought. She glanced back into the room and saw that he was engaged in conversation with two other group members. She wandered along the hallway just outside the door, cell phone in her hand as she opened the camera app and surreptitiously snapped a few photos of the group talking before turning her attention to the bulletin board behind her. She sent the pictures to John and Finch even though their boundary-less asses had probably already seen them and everything else on her phone. But who knew? Maybe one of Chapman's support group buddies were involved in whatever was going to go down.

Interestingly enough, she didn't have to come up with a plan to "accidentally" bump into Chapman in order to get him to talk to her. He had conveniently slipped beside her while she was feigning interest in the announcements on the board without her noticing he had left his group. She looked over at him while he glanced at the postings.

"Joss, is it?"

She nodded when he turned to look at her. He was tall, probably a few inches past six feet. Muscular build. Graying brown hair. Sad eyes. "I didn't catch your name."

"Tom."

"Nice to meet you." She turned back to the board.

"Likewise. You know, we don't get too many women in the group."

She smiled. "I could tell."

"How was it?"

She shrugged her shoulder. "Not bad. I've been to some before. They're all pretty much the same. Been to one you've been to them all." She watched as he nodded. "What about you? How long have you been coming here?"

"Few weeks. Just moved to New York."

"Really. Where you from?"

"Seattle."

"Hmm. Pretty far. Did you have family here or….?"

He shook his head. "No." Then he turned to her. "You from here?"

"Originally? No. But I've been here since I was eighteen."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a lawyer." He nodded and she noticed the surprise he tried to tamp down. "You?"

"Well, I was in construction. Still looking for something here."

New in town and unemployed. That could sometimes spell trouble. He surprised her with his next question.

"Will you be coming to the next meeting?"

Either he was starved for some estrogen in the group or he was interested in knowing more about her. John's words came back to her again. _You don't give yourself enough credit._ The next meeting was in a week. They'd be finished with this case by then. "Not sure." She watched him nod. "Hey, listen, uh….If you need someone to show you around town, you can give me a call. I'm a pretty good tour guide." She got a smile out of him then and watched as he took his phone from his pocket. After giving him her burner phone number, he dialed it so that she would have his. She bluejacked his phone once he put it back in his pocket.

"Are you free tonight?"

 _Here we go,_ she thought. "What do you have in mind?"

"Maybe you can show me a few sights."

She made a show of considering it. "Okay. I'll text you an address. Wear something warm."

* * *

Reese sat in his car along the street and sighed in irritation. Chapman sounded normal enough, but John wasn't naive enough to believe the trigger-happy man he'd served with had changed. Carter was only supposed to get close enough to get information that would stop the threat against him, or the threat he posed. Chapman was not supposed to be coming onto her or inviting her on a date. Or learning the story about her Purple Heart before he did.

He tapped his earpiece. "Well, looks like we've all got a date tonight, Finch."

"She's good, Mr. Reese," Finch responded, admiration in his tone.

"Yeah." _Too good._

"He may, however, be lying, John."

Reese sat up straighter in his seat.

"He said he didn't have any family in town. He has an uncle and a cousin. They both live in Queens."

Reese watched as Carter and Chapman exited the VA building. "Wonder what he's hiding…."

"Possibly nothing. Perhaps they aren't close, so he felt they weren't worth mentioning."

They both stopped speaking to resume listening in on Carter and Chapman.

* * *

"Where are you staying?" Joss stopped a few cars down from her own.

Chapman looked down the street. "A few blocks from here. Staying with a friend until I get back on my feet."

"Good friend."

He nodded but didn't say anything further.

She noticed his wince and the flash of distaste on his features. She nodded toward her car. "Well, I gotta get going. I'll see you tonight."

He nodded and smiled. "Look forward to it."

She returned the smile and headed toward her car. Chapman was standing there, waiting to see her off, so she avoided glancing in John's direction. Putting the car in drive, she peeled away from the curb and headed back toward the precinct.

* * *

Reese watched as Carter drove away, turning his attention back toward Chapman. "Did you know about the roommate, Finch?"

"No. And as you'll recall, the home address I found for him is not a few blocks from there. Detective Carter was able to clone his phone. He's texting someone as we speak."

Chapman was up to something. Reese had no idea what it was, but he was definitely up to something. "He's on foot. Wherever he's going now, it must not be far." Reese got out of his vehicle and began to follow him, looking down at his phone at Chapman's texts that Finch's software was forwarding. "Who's he texting?" He crossed the street, increasing the distance between Chapman and him.

"Give me a moment, Mr. Reese."

John's phone beeped. It was Carter. "Nice work, Carter."

"Where's he heading?"

"Not sure yet. He's on foot."

"Maybe to his friend's place?"

"Possibly. Finch has a home address for him, but it's not nearby like he said. It's in lower Manhattan."

"Hm. When he told me where he was staying, he kind of hesitated when he mentioned the friend. Like maybe the friend isn't that much of a friend."

Finch beeped in. "Hang on a second, Carter. Finch?"

"He's texting a phone registered to a Ron Kubik. Mr. Kubik's address is indeed a few blocks from there."

Reese looked back down at the texts. Chapman had asked Kubik where he was. Kubik responded that he was at work. Chapman texted _ok_ and the correspondence ended. "We need to look into Kubik, then, Finch. And Chapman's uncle and cousin."

"Already on it, John."

Switching back to Carter, John brought his attention back to Chapman. "Carter, Chapman just texted someone by the name of Ron Kubik. His address is a few blocks away. That's probably where he's headed."

Carter maneuvered around a delivery truck. "I'll run him through the database when I get back."

"What time are you meeting him tonight?"

"Probably around seven."

"Where?"

"I'm thinking Battery Park. Maybe we'll do a statue cruise. And hopefully he'll be in a talking mood. If he's planning anything, it probably won't be tonight since he agreed to meet with me."

"I'll be nearby."

"I know."

"Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"Stick close to Lionel today. I may not be able to have eyes on Chapman all day."

If he could see her, he would have seen her roll her eyes and shake her head. "Be careful, John."

"See you tonight."

* * *

At a little past six in the evening, Joss closed her front door and headed down the steps toward her car. She had already texted Chapman to meet her at the park and spoken to John. He'd spent the day following their person of interest while Finch looked into his supposed roommate and relatives in Queens. Purse over her shoulder and keys in hand, she assumed John would be following Chapman all the way to the meeting point. However, when she glanced towards her car, there he was leaning against it, waiting for her. "What's up? Case solved?" she half jokingly questioned as she made her way over to stand in front of him.

"You strapped up?"

She gave him her best _Do I look like this is my first rodeo?_ look in response.

John noted she was in jeans, low-heeled boots, and a motorcycle jacket. She looked enticing, which was the point he knew, but it heightened his unease for some reason. Out of her work clothes she seemed….more vulnerable. To settle his nerves, he fired off a series of instructions. "I'll be close by. You'll see me. Anything happens, just give me a few seconds. If we get separated, end the date. Tell him you got a text, need to make a phone call, something. But leave."

She didn't know why he was telling her all this. It really wasn't her first rodeo. But she nodded anyway because he was waiting for an affirmative response and didn't look like he was in the mood for anything less. In fact, his on edge nerves were making hers follow suit. John didn't rattle easily, if at all, and she wondered what she was missing. "We're gonna be in public. What do you think is gonna happen? What did he do?"

Reese knew she was referring to his and Chapman's army days. He looked away. "He was just...one of those guys. There because he wanted to kill people. Pretty sure he murdered some civilians, but I couldn't prove it." He turned back to her and shrugged his shoulder. "And you didn't go against your brothers."

She nodded. "Okay." She decided not to tell him that people can change, that Chapman might be attending vet support groups for a reason, and that he still may be a potential victim and not out to get anyone. Because, again, John didn't look like he was trying to hear any of that. "But you know I'll be fine. You got my back, right?" She got a small smile out of him and it made her feel better.

"Always." He spoke the single word softly, feeling the weight that came with it. He'd always had her back, yes, but the current circumstances increased the pressure, along with her expectations of it.

Carter smiled back at him. He got her into extra trouble all the time, but she never felt alone anymore. Always felt she had someone she trusted that she could turn to no matter what. Still, she always wondered why he chose to insert himself into her life. Her so-called "moral compass" couldn't have been all there was to it. Not needing her thoughts to go there, she looked at her phone to see the time. "Time to go if we're gonna get there early." She looked back up at him. "Need a ride?"

He shoved himself away from her car and turned to open the door for her. She slid past him and settled into the driver's seat. He closed her door and stood there expectantly so she turned the key in the ignition and rolled down the window.

He placed his hands on the car door. "I'll be right behind you."

She thought that he probably should have been right behind Chapman in case something happened. She doubted he'd sent Finch to do it. "Who's watching Chapman?"

He shrugged. "I was." He knew that she knew he could've called and told her everything he'd just told her in person. But she didn't say anything and he felt his attachment to her cement further.

Carter swallowed her questioning thoughts, set her foot on the brake, and put the car in reverse. "No speeding, John."

He let go of the car door. "Be careful, Detective." He backed away from the car and watched as she pulled out of the driveway before switching into his work mode and jogging toward his car a block down the street.

* * *

"Any kids?" Joss took a sip of her champagne as she sat across from Chapman on the Statue of Liberty cruise. It was an hour-long boat ride and she hoped the time, and the alcohol, would get him to open up. She didn't see John and assumed he had situated himself somewhere behind her trying not to look too conspicuous since he was alone and most people were here with friends and loved ones.

Chapman shook his head. "No. Just never happened for me. You?"

"One. My daughter, Taylor."

Chapman nodded. "How old?"

"Fifteen."

"Dad your ex?"

It was her turn to nod. "What about you? Ever been married? Long term things?" Carter knew these were questions they already had the answer to, but she hoped they would ease him into answering questions she wouldn't think to ask.

He turned to look out at the water. "Almost….once…."

She waited for him to elaborate. Instead, he turned back to her with a question of his own.

"I never asked. What kind of a lawyer are you?"

"Family law. It's about as depressing as criminal law." She shuddered for effect. "The stuff you see…."

Chapman nodded. "I can imagine."

"It's amazing….the things people do to hurt one another….especially the ones they're supposed to love the most." She watched his reaction carefully, looking for an opening. She knew he'd lied about not having any family in town, and had changed the subject when she asked about his past relationships. She didn't know why she thought it, but his closed-offness reminded her a lot of John, whose presence she still felt even though she couldn't see him.

Chapman nodded to himself as he looked out at the scenery again. "No argument there."

Was that a hint of bitterness she detected in his voice?

"What made you decide to be a lawyer, Joss?"

She bristled at the subject change again. "Money." She smiled at him when he faced her and they shared in the brief mirth. "Well that and….I wanted to help people. Seemed a lot safer than being in the desert on enemy ground…." She again watched for his reaction. To see any glimpse of the man John had described. "...having to kill people….not knowing if they're terrorists or….innocent civilians."

Chapman shifted in his seat and took another sip of his champagne. He cleared his throat. "War is hell."

"That it is." Silence befell them and Carter turned to look at the scenery that she'd seen several times before. Chapman was a hard nut to crack, but she was an interrogator and could never turn it off. His body language was telling the story.

Starting to feel like a dog with a bone, Carter dug for more. "You haven't told me why you left Seattle. I've been once. Visited a friend. Nice city. Too overcast and too much rain, but I liked it."

He shrugged. "I just needed a change." He suddenly made a move to get up from his seat. "Can we make our way up to the upper deck? Better views there probably."

"Okay." Joss grabbed her bag and took his proffered hand, letting him help her out of her seat. Unable to help herself, she took the opportunity to glance behind where she'd been sitting and spotted the back of John's head four tables back on the opposite side of the vessel. Chapman waited for her to walk ahead of him and she maneuvered around the small group of people, two things at the forefront of her mind: Seattle was off limits and a past love had probably hurt him. Maybe the threat had nothing to do with anyone in New York. Maybe it had everything to do with Seattle.

* * *

Reese stood alongside the rail at the top of the boat, frustration looming on the outskirts of his mind. "Finch, we need to look into Seattle. Something's there. If we can find out why he left, that might be the key." He glanced quickly over to Joss and Chapman, who were standing a little too close to one another. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but he was already beyond annoyed with this case. He did not like sending Carter out in the field and they were coming up empty on solid leads. He hadn't been able to find the roommate yet, and Fusco's trip out to see Chapman's uncle and cousin revealed that they hadn't been in contact with him in over twenty years. Seattle was important, but who, what, and why?

* * *

Carter rolled her eyes as she leaned against the boat's railing. "Why do men always ask that?" Maybe she was falling a little out of character, but she'd always hated that question. Chapman had asked her why she was single, like she had the power to make any man she wanted fall in love with her and be her perfect mate. He laughed, trying to play it off. "Why are _you_ single?" She lobbed the question back at him, hoping he'd give them something. The boat ride was coming to an end finally, thankfully. Lying and keeping the lies straight for an extended period of time was exhausting, and Chapman was standing a little too close for her comfort, too.

* * *

Reese shifted slightly where he stood, remembering the time he'd asked her if she'd ever thought about moving on, interested a little more than he should be in this exchange.

* * *

"I asked you first."

Joss rolled her eyes again, deciding she'd better give him something a little honest. Perhaps she'd get something with some depth in return. She looked out over the water. "I watched this movie on Netflix the other day. There was this line. Something like: 'They say people build up walls just to see if someone will care enough to tear them down.'** Reminded me of a…..friend of mine. Then I started to think about myself." She shrugged. "Maybe that's why." She paused for effect. "After you've been hurt once…."

The boat docked and people began filing out. Carter walked beside Chapman as they filed down the steps, wondering if John was already below or somewhere behind them. The friend she was talking about was him, and she wondered if he'd figured it out. She glanced at her companion. "Your turn."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "I guess we've all been there. That one hurt you just can't get past…."

She nodded. "Yeah…."

"The ex-husband?"

 _Bingo._ She took the opening. "Yeah. Yours?"

He didn't say anything for awhile and she could sense his immense hesitation. He was probably regretting his leading question. They'd reached the bottom of the boat and were waiting in a quickly moving line to exit.

She urged him on. "She must have really done a number on you, Tom."

He sighed. "My ex. I met her after my discharge."

"How long were you together?"

"Not long really. Two years."

"You messed it up, didn't you?"

"No. She did."

A chill. She felt one right then. His demeanor and voice changed for only a few seconds but it took her aback. She desperately wanted to ask the woman's name, but she didn't want to tip him off to her fishing. "Patrick did, too. Well, I used to think that way. It takes two I guess. Maybe I pushed him too much. I don't know. Something made him look elsewhere for what he wasn't getting at home."

"Well, we're a pair. Diane cheated on me, too."

Carter noticed he'd relaxed quickly—too quickly. People who went from hot to cold like that made her nervous. But she hoped the first name they'd just gotten was enough for Finch to go on. It would be difficult from 3000 miles away, but if anyone could do it, Finch could.

They walked through Battery Park, sticking to lighthearted conversation. Again, she was comforted by the sense of being followed, and relieved that the evening was over. If Chapman wanted to get a drink somewhere, she'd ask him for a rain check because she had work in the morning.

When they reached the park's entrance, she stopped walking and looked up at him. "Well, what'd you think? Classic New York City."

Chapman nodded to himself. "Not bad." Then he met her eyes. "I think the company made it better, though."

Reese followed them, listening to Finch tell him what he already knew—that it would be difficult to find out who Diane was without a last name. A Diane who may or may not still be in Seattle. And may or may not be involved in this damn case. He kept walking past them when they stopped.

Carter ignored Chapman's statement, smelling John's cologne as he casually walked by. "Did you drive?"

"Yeah. I can walk you to your car, though."

She readjusted her purse on her shoulder. "Actually, I left it midtown, took the subway. Way cheaper than parking here." She pointed to the nearby subway station.

"Okay. I'll walk you to the station."

* * *

Reese beat them there by half a minute, making his way past the turnstiles, down the stairs, and waiting for them by the tracks. He saw them enter the concourse, still listening to their small talk, and it struck him again like it did on occasion. The reminder that he was attracted to Carter, followed by the urge to suppress it. Just looking at her, she had a beautiful, magnetic soul. A light that seemed to emanate from her at all times, even though she was a homicide detective who dealt with senseless death on a daily basis. And it didn't help at all that, on the surface, she was just a sexy woman. Her confidence, her competence. The way she carried herself. Brown skin that looked soft as silk, curves he itched to hold.

He hoped Chapman wouldn't try to kiss her goodnight, but his hope was soon dashed. He swallowed and looked away, feeling his body become rigid. It was a public place and a "first date", so the kiss was brief, but John noticed his jaw painfully clenching and forced himself to take slow breaths until his muscles relaxed.

The subway car arrived and Reese waited until Carter said goodbye to Chapman and entered before he stepped through the next set of doors. He stood, his hand holding onto the vertical pole until the car began to move. Then he made his way back to where she had found a seat and sat beside her.

Carter turned to look at him. "What'd you think?"

"He's running from something. But I don't know if it's related to whatever he's mixed up in."

She nodded and faced forward. "He's real bitter about this Diane, that's for sure. I got this uncomfortable vibe when he brought her up." She turned to him again. "Did you find his roommate yet?"

He sighed. "No. I'm going back to his apartment, see if he's shown up yet."

They had reached the next stop.

"You getting off here, then?"

He stood up, missing the warmth of sitting so close to her and lamenting the fact that he had to leave her so soon. But the faster they put the pieces together, the sooner he'd be able to relax. "Yeah. I'll be in touch."

She watched as he beat a hasty retreat and felt a pang of loneliness before she berated herself and took out her phone to pass the time.

**CRU (2014)

~TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Finch questioned Reese over the phone the following morning. "Are you certain this is a good idea, John?"

John had staked out Kubik's apartment for several hours last night after Chapman arrived following his date with Carter. Kubik had arrived shortly thereafter and Reese listened to their conversation. If it could be called that. There were short greetings exchanged, Kubik had asked about Chapman's job hunt, got an answer Reese couldn't decipher aside from being a grunt, and that was it. Then, thirty minutes later, Chapman had texted Carter to see if she'd made it home ok. John had put forth a valiant effort not to be bothered by the gesture but he'd lost that battle quickly. She was playing a role, he'd known that, but her response chafed: _Yeah thanks for checking in on me. Had a great time. We should do it again._ She was being too nice, too inviting. Chapman was definitely going to ask to see her again, and he just couldn't shake the bad feeling he had about this entire thing. She had helped them tremendously already, given them some leads to follow up on, but he was more anxious than ever to minimize her further involvement.

After Reese was certain they had turned in for the night, the exhausted vigilante had gone home and caught a few hours of shut eye. And now here he was again, posted outside the apartment, waiting for Kubik to leave for work. "We need to shake something loose, Finch. There's only so much we can do from here before we have to start considering a flight to Seattle." In truth, he was already considering it and was sure Finch was, too. He would hate to have to send Harold there alone, but there was no way he was leaving Carter in New York with Chapman.

Over the past day, they had learned that Kubik had never married, worked as a meter reader for Con Edison, and had also arrived in New York City by way of Seattle. Since Reese, Finch, nor Carter believed in coincidences, they were certain Kubik and Chapman had known each other out in Washington state. Carter had also given them Kubik's arrest record: petty theft and nothing else. None of which solidified him as the threat or victim in relation to Chapman.

"What will you do if they leave together?"

"Chapman doesn't have any place he needs to be. They won't." As if on cue, Kubik exited the apartment building and made a right along the sidewalk. He had his hands in his jacket pockets to ward off some of the morning chill and Reese took up position behind him, cloning his phone. He followed him for a few blocks before tackling him into an empty alley.

With his forearm across Kubik's throat, Reese pinned him to the adjacent building's siding. When Kubik didn't offer much in the way of resistance, Reese decided to save his energy and try a friendlier approach. "Good morning, Ron."

"What the hell do you want?"

Reese loosened his hold a bit. "Information."

"About what?"

Reese saw defeat of the general kind in Kubik's eyes, the same defeat he'd seen in his own eyes before Carter and Finch saved him, and let go of him. Kubik didn't seem to care too much for his own life so Reese wasn't going to have to use his usual tricks of persuasion. "Chapman."

At the mention of Chapman's name, Kubik's eyes widened and his body tensed, and Reese quickly reassessed his earlier decision to forgo restraining him.

"Who are you?"

"Not important. Listen, Ron, I'm not interested in you. I want to know why Chapman left a perfectly good job in Seattle to slum it here in New York with you."

"Man, look, I'm gonna be late for work—" Kubik made an attempt to leave but Reese shoved his chest, forcing him back against the building.

Already tiring of the song and dance, John got in Kubik's face, his eyes warning the man he was on his last ounce of patience. "What's he doing here, Kubik? What's he running from?"

Kubik hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other, eyes looking everywhere else but at Reese. "Look I don't know—"

"Stop lying to me—"

"I don't know! He just—he just asked if he could crash for awhile until he got on his feet."

Reese scrutinized him. His extreme discomfort—and not just from being held against his will. He was reluctant to discuss his new roommate. Not out of loyalty per se. More out of…..fear.

"Who's Diane?"

Kubik stopped fidgeting and eyed Reese with intense suspicion, like he was wondering how John knew about Diane. His voice was quieter when he answered. "Uh, just some girl."

Reese rolled his eyes. "I know that, Ron. What happened there?"

Kubik shrugged, immediately shifting from suspicious back to reluctant. His eyes avoided Reese's again. "I don't know. Just some girl he was obsessed with."

"What's her last name?"

Kubik shook his head, incredulous over what he was being asked. Reese fisted his shirt, jerking him toward him and forcing Kubik to look into his wild eyes.

" _What's_ her name?"

"Wentzell okay!"

"Is she still living in Seattle?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"How obsessed was he? What'd he do?"

"I don't know, man, he just followed her a lot. She said he wouldn't leave her alone. He's crazy sometimes, I don't know."

Reese released Kubik's shirt and jerked his head toward the mouth of the alley, nonverbally telling him he was free to go. He watched Kubik stumble away and immediately tapped his earpiece. "Did you get that, Finch?"

"Already on it. There are only two Diane Wentzells in the greater Seattle area….."

Reese knew Finch was busy narrowing it down to the one they needed. "I think Chapman's got something on Kubik. Only way Kubik would let someone he can't stand stay in his house."

"I agree, Mr. Reese. The question, once again, is what?"

Reese started walking back to his car.

"What if he alerts Chapman to the fact that someone was questioning him about him?"

"He won't. But if he does, maybe something else we can use will shake loose."

* * *

"Carter."

"Hey, Sal." Carter ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and walked toward her colleague. Her eyes immediately went toward the white sheet covering the victim's body tucked between two dumpsters in the dark alley. She was used to it, more used to it than anyone should be, but there was something cruel about the beautiful, warm weather they were enjoying and the murdered young woman who couldn't.

They stood several feet away from the body while Sal filled her in. "Looks like she was strangled. She's probably been here at least a few days. Sanitation worker found her."

"ID on her?"

"We found a purse down by that meter." Sal pointed toward a parking meter along the street. "Figured that's where she was attacked. Cheryl's got the bag already. Name on the ID is Karen Walker." He nodded toward the victim. "ID and victim appear to match. Baker's contacting next of kin for a positive ID, though."

Carter nodded and moved closer to the body, slipping on a blue nitrile glove and crouching down to carefully lift up the sheet. She shook her head. Like she was expecting, like was too often the case, the woman was naked. She'd probably been raped, too. Carter squinted as something caught her eye.

"You see that, right?" Sal prompted.

"Yeah." Written on the woman's chest, in what looked like black permanent marker ink, was the capital letter F. Ritualistic markings and killings usually meant one thing and she soon itched to get back to the precinct to scour the database.

* * *

Growing tired of his current stakeout, Reese was contemplating giving Carter a call to give him something to do. After the Kubik confrontation, Reese had climbed back into his sedan to wait for Chapman to emerge. From the sounds coming from Chapman's phone, he was awake and moving about the apartment. Reese wished there was more he could do besides babysit this number while Harold fished for leads. Chapman being a recent transplant without a job, no friends they could find, and only estranged family members was extremely limiting. Usually there was a connect somewhere to something or someone that would help them solve the mystery. It wasn't happening in this case and it gnawed at him. Maybe he was dismissing Kubik too quickly. Maybe Kubik wanted to bump Chapman off to get him off his back and out of his place.

He was grateful when Finch beeped in. "Finch."

"John, I've got some information on Diane Wentzell. She's a receptionist at a large dental practice. Married last year to a Douglas Wentzell. They have an infant son. From what I've been able to gather, she filed for a temporary order of protection against Chapman back in 2009 but the final order for protection was never issued. It appears the complainant was a no show in court."

Reese frowned at that. "I suppose you don't know why."

"I do not at the moment."

Reese would have loved to ask her or some of her friends or family about it in person but, again, there were distance limitations.

"But I think it's safe to say that your initial assessment of Mr. Chapman was probably correct. Mr. Kubik and Mrs. Wentzell both have issues with him and his uncle and cousin have had nothing to do with him in years."

Reese nodded to himself. "Kubik seems like a weasel but maybe we need to dig further into him. Maybe he hates Chapman enough to want to kill him."

"Kubik appears to keep to himself, Mr. Reese. His recent record is clean. By all indications, he goes to work and goes home and stays out of trouble."

Reese's phone vibrated. He looked down at the screen and frowned again. Chapman was texting Carter. Again. He thought about Diane Wentzell and sighed, again regretting putting Joss in Chapman's crosshairs. The only thing keeping him sane was the fact that he was following Chapman 24/7 and would be there to protect her if Chapman tried anything. "Are you getting these?"

"Yes." It was all Finch said.

"He wants to see her again. I'm thinking maybe we should nip this in the bud, Finch. What else is she going to be able to get out of him that she hasn't already?"

Finch didn't want to disagree with John, but they truly needed all the help they could get at this point. "Perhaps we could give it a little more time, John. As long as you're keeping close tabs on Mr. Chapman, Detective Carter should be safe."

Reese really couldn't argue with that logic, without giving away far more than he intended to ever, so he relented. He looked down at the phone screen again. "Looks like they're meeting at a bar tonight."

Finch breathed a mental sigh of relief at John's lack of objection. "Yes. It appears we have ourselves another date."

* * *

Carter had been busy most of the day running some preliminary work on the Walker murder and testifying at an unrelated trial, so she hadn't touched base with John at all regarding Chapman. She knew they had seen the texts as they were sent so she hadn't had to inform them that Chapman wanted to meet up again. Fortunately, Fusco had offered to stay late and work on the Walker case so that she could handle this meetup. He had owed her one anyway.

Arriving at the bar a little early, she inconspicuously slipped into John's sedan as it idled a block and a half down the street. She asked him a question in lieu of a greeting. "He already in there?"

Reese looked at her and nodded. She was in her work clothes and had already ditched her badge and weapon to get into lawyer mode.

"Any progress? I was busy as hell today."

Reese proceeded to fill her in on what he knew so far.

She sighed, speaking more to herself than to him. "What the hell is going on with this one?"

John shook his head in response. "See if you can get him to talk to you about Kubik."

She nodded. "Y'all planning a trip to Seattle? Someone needs to talk to his ex. I'd say her husband might want to do Chapman in for harassing his wife, but he's all the way out there. Unless, he hires someone….."

Reese considered that. "Finch, have you looked into the Wentzells' finances? Can they afford a hitman?"

Finch responded promptly. "They pulled in a little over $140,000 jointly before taxes last year. Their monthly mortgage payments are around $3400. About $30,000 in savings…...Looking for any large withdrawals now…..I'm not seeing any, Mr. Reese."

"We should check for either of them flying into JFK or Laguardia."

"Will do."

Reese turned back to Carter.

She shouldered her purse. "Alright. Let me get in there."

"Be careful."

Opening the car door and getting out, Carter felt Reese's eyes on her back as she walked down the block and into the bar. Opening the door and stepping inside, she immediately took stock of the place. It was small, fairly packed for a weeknight, the noise level was somewhere between low and moderate, and she was the only black soul in there. The bar was along the far wall, several small round tables were mostly occupied, and there was a single, large flat screen television mounted behind the bar at one end. She also noted an old-fashioned looking jukebox on one wall providing background noise of the country variety while the tv was muted.

It didn't take long to spot Chapman sitting at the bar. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned and faced her, rising from his stool. She plastered a smile on her face as she maneuvered around the tables and made her way over to him.

"Hey."

She forced her muscles to relax as he greeted her by pulling her body against his into a hug. "Hey." When he released her from his hug, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and kept her close like he had somehow earned the privilege to do so.

"Thanks for coming."

Uncomfortable, she smiled again, tightly, and as discreetly as possible pushed away from him to sit on the empty stool next to his. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort and sat back down, proceeding to ask her how her day was. She could tell he was a couple of drinks in as she set her purse on the counter. Not tipsy but loose enough to let some things slip if she played her cards right. "Day was okay. Couple of divorce hearings. Drafted a will."

Chapman signaled the burly bartender and turned to her. "What are you drinking?"

At the bartender's swift arrival, she directed her answer to him. "Uh, Guinness, please."

"On my tab." Chapman added.

"So," Carter turned back to him. "How was your day?"

He shrugged. "Okay. Not as exciting as yours. Filled out some applications."

She nodded. "That's always fun." She made her tone sympathetic but not pitying.

"Yeah."

"What about your friend? The one you're staying with? What does he do?" She smiled and thanked the bartender when he set her drink in front of her.

Chapman shrugged again. "He works at the electric company."

"No openings there he can help you out with?"

"I doubt he wants to." He took a sip of his drink and she took a sip of hers.

"Damn. Why not? Too much togetherness for him?"

Chapman shrugged once again. "He just doesn't like me much."

"So why's he letting you stay with him?"

Joss grunted when she was suddenly shoved from behind. She turned around to give whoever had hit her a look and a chance to apologize. It was some guy standing behind her stool roughhousing with another guy. Before she got the chance to say anything, Chapman shouted over her shoulder.

"Hey!" He got the offender's attention. "You hit her. Watch it."

The guy stopped laughing long enough to toss an annoyed "sorry" in Carter's direction before turning back to playfully punch his companion in the shoulder. Quickly forgetting the incident, Carter turned back to Chapman. "So, what's his beef with you?"

"You'd have to ask him."

"Mm." _More_ _useless information_. She took another drink of her beer.

"Do you have a will, Joss?"

She was taken aback by the question until she remembered she'd just told him she had prepared a will at work today. But knowing what she _didn't_ know about him, and the creepy way he'd just asked her, she stayed taken aback. "Of course. Be kinda remiss if I didn't, right?" She watched him down the rest of his drink and a faraway look pass over him.

"Mm. That's good."

She got another chill right then. The way that he looked and the way that he said it. But instead of retreating, she decided to dig her heels in. "Never know what can happen. In the blink of an eye something or somebody—" Her statement was cut short when the same guy behind her elbowed her in the back again. And in the blink of an eye, all hell broke loose.

Chapman jumped off his stool and walked around her, shoving the two-time offender against the bar. "Hey! I told you to watch it!"

When Rude Guy shoved Chapman back, it was Joss's cue to put some distance between them and herself. Then when Rude Guy's friends joined in, some poor woman seated at a round table got knocked out of her chair in the melee, leading to her male companion either jumping to her defense or just taking the opportunity to blow off some alcohol-fueled steam. More tipsy to drunk men jumped in and it soon turned into a full on brawl. Joss grabbed her purse and got the hell out of the way, pressing her back against a far wall when bottles and chairs started flying through the air and one nearly took her damn head off. She muttered under her breath and sighed. "Shit." She had been expecting another interesting evening trying to help with this case but this had taken a decidedly left turn.

The small space of the bar and the cacophony of yells, grunts, and broken glass made the place feel like a war zone. The smart thing to do would be to leave. She didn't have her badge nor her weapon, and even if she did, she wouldn't have wanted to out herself to Chapman. And things had gotten far enough out of hand that the cops were probably going to be called. This was in the 5th precinct, not hers, but she knew plenty of the cops and she was not trying to be a witness and outed by whoever showed up. But depending on what happened, she didn't want to leave Chapman just yet.

Another bottle breaking on the wall next to her head and two guys bringing their fight a foot from where she stood forced her to inch her way along the wall to the short hallway where the bathrooms were. A few other women had managed to make their way over to where she was and she instructed them all to wait it out in the ladies' room along with her since the back exit was unfortunately across the room. She knew John would be wanting to know what was going on so she would call him from there.

* * *

Hearing the fight break out over Chapman's phone, Reese got out of the car and started walking toward the bar. When it sounded like it was picking up steam, he got frustrated that Carter wasn't wearing an earpiece so that he could find out what was going on. Instead, he'd tried to call her, but it was likely she couldn't feel her phone vibrate considering the noise in the background.

He knew she was capable. He knew she was trained and far from helpless. But she wasn't weaponed up and he couldn't stop envisioning her getting hurt or already being hurt in the middle of the drunken bar fight Chapman's unbalanced ass had started. Ignoring Finch's questioning of what he was about to do, Reese stormed into the bar.

He ducked and weaved, trying to avoid getting into his own fight so he could do the one thing he came to do: find and extract Joss. Seeing Chapman still throwing some punches and not seeing Joss, Reese made his way over to the far wall where the bathrooms probably were. She might have made her way out the back, but knowing how she was never one to cut and run, he decided to check the women's restroom.

* * *

Carter put her phone to her ear when she looked up and saw the bathroom door being pushed open. Thinking it was someone else seeking refuge, she was startled to see John instead. She barely had time to take the phone away from her ear before he charged toward her and grabbed her wrist. Feeling herself being pulled behind him, they both stopped when a gunshot rang out and the place almost immediately quieted down.

John had his gun in one hand, her wrist in the other, pulling her so close behind him her front was against his back and she struggled not to trip over his feet. He opened the bathroom door and looked out, dragging her behind him. Her heart sank when she knew what was about to happen. John was on a mission and she couldn't pull him to a stop if she tried. There were two ways out of the place and they were going to be seen either way. John was going to be seen. Chapman was going to see them. Him.

The bartender was holding the rifle that had likely fired the bullet that sliced through all the testosterone and alcohol in the place. While some people were staggering out of the building, most were looking to see where the shot had come from. Chapman, only slightly bloodied, spotted her being dragged toward the exit and started toward her.

"Joss. Hey!"

It was ridiculous how unwarranted and bizarre the concern in his face was. But she knew it looked bad, her being dragged out by some man in a suit. She watched as he hurriedly navigated over overturned chairs and debris. She looked up at the back of John's head when Chapman eyed him trying to figure out who was manhandling his date. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

Chapman reached them, his eyes squinting in what was probably hazy twenty year old recognition and yanked at John's arm to free her. John let go of her long enough to lay Chapman out with a right cross, then he pulled her again until they were out the front door. Cops' sirens sounded in the vicinity and she hurried to keep up with his pace as they headed down the sidewalk toward his car.

John finally released her as they approached his car and she quickly made her way to the passenger side and got in, saving her rampant questions and fears for when he would be amenable to them.

"John?" Finch was in his ear again as Reese peeled away from the curb. "What's happening?"

"I've got Carter." Reese didn't know exactly where he was going, but he wanted to put some distance between them and the cops without going too far since Carter would need to retrieve her vehicle.

"What about Chapman?"

"Still at the bar. Probably about to get arrested."

"Did he see you?"

Reese grimaced at the question he didn't want to answer. "Yes." Not wanting to hear it, knowing he probably overreacted since Carter had gotten herself to safety and didn't have a scratch on her, he answered with a clipped tone and raised his hand to his ear to prepare to end the call. "I'll be in touch." He tapped the earpiece and turned into an empty parking lot, pulling the car to a stop behind a tall white, windowless building and turning off the engine.

He sighed to himself, suddenly wishing she wasn't in the car with him. Suddenly wishing she wasn't involved with this case. Suddenly wishing she'd rebuffed his request a year ago that she stop chasing him and become a part of his world. He wanted to be alone to lick his wounds. He wanted to be alone so that he didn't have to process what had just happened. But she was here, she was involved in this and his life, and he was going to have to talk to her.

He looked in her general direction, eyes focusing on the glove compartment in front of her. "Are you okay?" It seemed the thing to ask.

Joss was not okay. All she could think about was Mark Snow. All she could think about was what she'd inadvertently done, how John was almost killed because she brought him back from the dead. She'd felt guilty after it happened, especially considering he'd just saved her life, but she'd gotten past it she thought. He didn't seem to have held a grudge and showed her he trusted her—for reasons still unknown—by bringing her into the fold. But as time went on, as she got to know him better—not well but better—that guilt came back. And now she'd just brought him back from the dead again. Chapman probably wouldn't try to kill him like Snow. Chapman probably didn't even know John was supposed to be dead. But the guilt and the fact that she cared about him more than she wanted to admit was making her irrational and for some reason she couldn't make herself stop. "Why'd you do that? It was just some drunk fools fighting. I was fine."

He turned to look at her, his defenses rising. "I didn't know that."

"So now everything I've done so far—it's just been for nothing. Now somebody else knows you're alive."

He faced forward in his seat and didn't try to hide his sigh this time. "I'll deal with it."

"What if—what if he decides to look you up now? Sees you're supposed to be dead but you aren't." She nodded her head in the direction of the bar they'd just left. "He's probably pissed off at you now. He could do anything with that information."

Reese's jaw worked in irritation. He didn't need to be told what he already knew. "You didn't answer your phone."

Carter wanted to throttle him. He was missing the point. "You didn't give me a chance to call you back."

Reese faced her again, not knowing why he was arguing with her. Not remembering the last time he'd actually argued with anyone. It was a waste of time and he usually handled conflict by shutting down or whooping ass. "I was supposed to just sit here and wait for you to call me back?"

"Yes! You know I wasn't in there trying to break up that fight by myself. Do I look like I'm stupid?"

"Innocent bystanders get hurt all the time, Carter."

"Okay, John. I might have gotten a cut or scratch or something. But what about you? You're always doing this. Always caring about everybody but yourself."

He couldn't understand why she was being so vehement about this. Nor why he was responding to it so viscerally. His whole body felt agitated, hackles rising, like he could feel each individual hair on his skin. He wanted to just take her back to her car right now, cops and Chapman be damned. He was embarrassed by his overreaction. He was reeling from the reason why. She was determined to throw it in his face. He didn't want any of this. "I'll handle it."

Joss knew she had gotten her point across already. She knew she should let up on him. But she was having trouble slowing her roll. He'd put her on an emotional rollercoaster since the day she met him. Compassion, curiosity, apprehension, gratitude, disappointment, comfort, irritation, security, fear. Fear. Why was so she afraid for him? Damn him! "How? You got Donnelly after you, the task force because of me, and now—"

He knew he wasn't shit for it but he said it anyway. She was pushing him and his reflex was to push back. "Well, Carter, as long as he doesn't call and tell Snow where I am, I'll be fine." After it was out, he felt awful. Immediately. Wasn't that how it always went? Don't think. React. Regret.

He hung his head and tried to steady his breathing but his heart was beating wildly in his chest. He was afraid to look at her. To see what he'd done. He lifted his head and stared out the windshield. He felt tears lining his eyes. He needed to make it up to her. He had to.

She wasn't saying anything so he finally chanced a glance at her. She was looking out of her side window. He couldn't tell if she was hurt or angry but he knew, whichever it was, he couldn't stand having put it there.

He reached over to her with his left hand, breaching the flimsy but ever present wall between them. He turned her face toward his, surprised that she let him, surprised at just how soft her skin was. He saw hurt and anger both. But more hurt. Unable to stop himself, he leaned over and rested his forehead against hers, his nose brushing alongside hers. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head from side to side. She had never truly apologized for leading him to what had ultimately been his intended execution, whether it was her fault or not, and it all came tumbling out. "I didn't know. I didn't know he was going to—"

"No." He couldn't have that. Her guilt. He stopped her, kissing her words away before his mind caught up with his actions. "No." His lips pressed against hers again.

"It was my fault—"

He couldn't hear anymore. "No." He kissed her once more. Longer this time.

Her train of thought derailed as she became fully aware of what he was doing, as he uncovered that hidden desire within her. She kissed him back, her hands coming up to grip his face as he caught her sob in his mouth.

More kisses. Torrid kisses. Control slipping through his grip until it was totally lost. Something else starting to unleash. Something caustic and wild that was burning up his insides. It made his body yearn for more contact with hers. He ran a hand down her side, needing her closer than she was. Closer than the car's impeding center console would allow. Both hands drew her closer, pulling her over until she was in his lap.

Joss was aware of what she was doing but it still felt like she was watching somebody else doing it. The pressure inside her, between them, inside the car built. His hands pushed her further into the inferno, running across her back, finding their way underneath her suit jacket, pulling her shirt out of her pants and caressing the skin there. In turn she sought more contact with his skin. Why was he so overdressed? She pulled at the top of his shirt, releasing a few buttons and pressing kisses beneath his clavicle. She needed him. It wasn't want. She _needed_ him. He had protected her and then cut her deep. He made her feel cared for, secure, and he made her feel pain and guilt. He overloaded her. He made her _feel_.

She kissed his neck, his chin, his mouth again. She needed him.

Unbuttoning her pants, she raised herself onto her knees and pushed her panties and pants down, not parting her mouth from his, unable to break the connection. She maneuvered until they were wrapped around her ankles.

Hastily unbuttoning his pants, John lifted his butt and pushed them along with his underwear down his thighs until he was just free enough. He gripped her hips and slid into her. "Joss," he spoke into her mouth.

"Yeah." She let go of his lips, gripped his shoulders and pressed her cheek against his as she rode him, her mouth open as she gasped and breathed and gasped again.

He set a frenetic pace, feelings and sensations catapulting him forward without brakes, not caring about anyone or anything except this. This couldn't end. This graceless joyride of release and surrender and peace. How empty would he be if it did? He buried his face in her neck and grunted in time with his upward thrusts.

He would never know how much time passed before she took what she was giving him away. She came hard, too hard. So hard he couldn't keep going without her. Her whole body trembled and moist " _oh gods_ " condensed on his face. She controlled it all, taking his orgasm along with hers and leaving him uttering curses while trying to catch the breath refusing to slow down for him.

The pressure released slowly, their bodies eventually stilled, and Carter felt the shift immediately. Consequences. Berating. Shock. Regret. Like clockwork, they burdened her and she awkwardly climbed off him and back to the passenger seat, managing to not become entangled in the pants at her ankles. Managing to not look at him. Just a few minutes ago she'd needed him. Now she needed to get away from him. She lifted herself up until she could pull her pants and underwear back in place. Tears burned behind her eyes and she hated that she couldn't pinpoint why. She wasn't sad, she wasn't mad. She was just…..everything. She looked out the car's window, gulping repeatedly to keep the tears at bay.

Stilted, sticky silence permeated the enclosed space. John slowly put himself back together. He felt loss. He felt drained and empty. He could feel her anxiety and discomfort a hundredfold and he berated himself for touching her. He'd known it would make him lose control of everything he never planned to show her. He'd known it. But he'd done it anyway. He wanted to look at her, to see if she would eventually be okay, but he knew she didn't want to look at him. Not right now.

Carter was tempted to open the car door and just run, but it was too far to walk, her legs felt like jelly, and she wasn't sure they would get her more than a few steps. "Can you drop me off by my car?"

"I'm sorry, Joss." He said it again. He said it for the same reason as before and for new ones.

She nodded. She didn't want to hear it. It was unnecessary, she hated the guilt in it, and she didn't want to talk. "Please."

Numbly, John started the car. Numbly, he drove back to hers, stopping behind it. The scene at the bar was still active, two police cruisers stationed outside. There was no sign of Chapman, so John was about to tell her it was safe for her to get into her car unseen. She didn't give him the chance, though, gripping her purse and slipping out before he could even put the vehicle in park. He watched her get into her car. She probably wanted him to drive off and leave her alone. But that wasn't going to happen, so he waited.

Joss felt she could breathe freely once she was safely inside her car. She couldn't let go yet, though. She looked into the rear view mirror and saw him looking into her car. She started the ignition and felt her burner phone vibrate in her suit jacket pocket. Of course Chapman would be blowing up her phone right now. She couldn't take it, any of this right now, so she took the phone out and silenced it. Then she drove away, away from John and what she'd left in that car with him as fast as she could.

~TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Reese sighed, running his hand down his face before looking up at the roof of the car. He hated everything right now. The army, the CIA, Peter Arndt, Finch, himself. Everyone and everything that had led him to her, to this moment.

He hadn't wanted her to know. He hadn't wanted the complication, and knew she would want it even less. A cop and a legally dead vigilante. Even if he wanted her, why would he put her in such a position? He was just a dead man walking and he had no business being in a relationship. And now? Now, he'd probably just ruined the friendship they had, the one that was already so unusual that he'd always handled it as though it were as fragile as precious glass.

Mentally shaking himself, he tried to do what was necessary. Tried to compartmentalize. He knew Finch would be waiting for him to make first contact. He knew his partner had heard everything and had broken the connection as soon as he believed what his ears were hearing. But John wasn't ready yet. He needed to focus and get back to work. Back to what he did best. And now, more than ever, he needed some real progress on this infuriating case.

Sighing yet again, he grabbed his phone and tracked Chapman's signal. It was moving away from his, rapidly, which meant he was in a vehicle. Either his own or in a squad car. John also saw Chapman's missed calls to Carter's phone before he put the car in drive and performed a U-turn to pick up Chapman's trail. He had seen him, maybe even recognized him, but it would be Carter he'd be after. She'd be the one he would look to to answer his questions. And even though John was confident that she'd be safely out of his reach, he still worried. Chapman didn't know where she lived, knew her as Joss Carpenter the family law attorney, and the only number he had for her was for a throwaway burner phone. Still, that nagging concern he always felt for her burned bright in the back of his mind.

Closing in on his target, Reese struggled to keep his focus on his task, fighting to suppress the memory of how she felt on top of him and sheathed around him. He pressed harder on the gas pedal. He had never let himself think about what it would be like to make love to her, but he never would have wanted the first time to be in Finch's cramped car. He never would have wanted either of them to be filled with regret. He never would have been so impatient that he missed his chance to see all of her, touch all of her. His jaw worked, his temperament plummeting further into choleric territory as he caught up with Chapman who had apparently avoided getting arrested and was behind the wheel of his own car. Not relaxing in the least, Reese continued to follow at a safe distance until he'd followed him all the way to Kubik's residence.

Sitting outside of the apartment building listening to the two men exchange terse greetings, Reese wondered what Joss was doing, how she was feeling. Whether her knowing he wanted her had ruined her life. Until Kubik and Chapman's conversation piqued his interest.

"What the hell happened to you?" Kubik asked.

"I was at a bar and this guy shows up. John Rollins. He was in my squad back in '93."

Reese noted Chapman's animated agitation. He figured the man was probably pacing.

"So what's the problem?" Kubik sounded uninterested.

"This fight breaks out and the son of a bitch is dragging my date out the door."

"Why'd you let him?"

"I didn't. But that's not the point. I meet her a few days ago out of the blue and she leaves with him. How do they know each other?"

"You call her?"

"That's another thing. She's not answering her phone."

"Who is this girl?"

"A lawyer, or so she says."

"A _lawyer_? What the fuck are you doing dating a lawyer, man?"

"She does family law. Divorces and shit."

"Wait a minute."

Reese tilted his head, wondering if they were about to make the connection.

Kubik continued. "What does this guy look like?"

"'Bout six two. Black hair with some gray. Blue eyes. Like a fucking weasel. Wearing a fucking suit."

"Shit, Tom."

"What?"

"That was probably the same guy that cornered me this morning. He was asking all these questions about you. Shit! You think he knows? Is he a cop?"

 _Knows what?_ Reese wondered, hoping they would continue talking until one of them spilled the beans about what the hell the Machine had given them Chapman's number for.

Chapman continued after a few beats. "Fuck if I know. He didn't act like one."

"You need to find that girl. You know where she lives?"

Chapman cursed under his breath. "No. Manhattan's all I know."

Reese heard some movement before Kubik spoke again.

"Looking her up?"

"Yeah."

Reese decided to use the break in conversation to finally call Finch.

"Mr. Reese?"

John ignored Finch's blatant hesitation. "Are you hearing this?"

"Don't worry, John. Detective Carter's alias's social network footprint is small but thorough."

"It's not that. It sounds like, whatever's going on, Kubik's definitely involved. The question is, have they already done something they're trying to cover up and we're too late, or are they planning something?"

Finch sighed. Reese didn't like it when Finch sighed. Any sign of frustration from Harold was always a bad sign.

"Unfortunately, that's still unclear, Mr. Reese. But he will probably continue trying to reach Detective Carter."

Reese detected more hesitation before Finch continued.

"Even though he spotted you, the detective remains our only direct connection to Mr. Chapman. Perhaps we can come up with a plan to—"

Reese shook his head even though Finch couldn't see him. "She's out of this, Finch. We handle this on our own going forward."

Finch held his tongue, knowing better than to argue with the former assassin at this juncture while questioning whether John's direct order was the result of what had just happened between them or his general unease at having the detective involved in the first place.

Silence befell the two partners as they continued to listen in on Chapman and Kubik.

* * *

Joss pulled into her driveway, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower and fall into bed. She wouldn't sleep, she knew. Her mind would replay it on an endless loop. But her bedroom, her bed was her sanctuary. The one place she could be alone and let go. She just needed to make it there. She had fought hard against the tears the entire way home, only being victorious because she knew she had to face Taylor.

The chant followed her all the way home. It trailed after her as she went up the steps to her front door. As she hung her keys on the hook by the door and set her bag on the couch. _What did you just do? What did you just do?_

She didn't even know what time it was. But she turned everything off anyway. Living room lights, TV, kitchen lights, and made her way up the stairs almost in a daze. She knocked on Taylor's closed door. Once. Twice. Finally, she opened it a crack, seeing him sitting at his desk with his headphones on. Sensing someone's presence, he turned and faced her. She forced the smile mothers sometimes had to fake for their children and asked, "Hey. How was your day?" once he removed his headphones.

"Okay. Yours?"

She nodded, grateful that he hadn't had a bad day and that he didn't have a long spiel for her. "Same. I'm gonna head to bed now. Long day." At his nod, she told him goodnight and felt the burden—the one that had her keeping it together for him—fall from her shoulders with every step toward her bedroom. _Why? Why did you do it? What were you thinking?_

In the shower three minutes later, she closed her eyes and turned her face up toward the warm stream of water. The pressure felt good as it pelted her face, and if any tears escaped, she wouldn't be able to discern them. _How?_ She was always so responsible. She was rarely spontaneous. _So how?_

It was just so…..rash. So unlike her. So risky. So, so incredibly stupid. She was stunned at her behavior. So completely shell-shocked that it was leaving her emotionally immobile.

She had actually, literally, in real life had actual, literal, real life sex with John. In his car. She didn't stop at kissing him, no. Good judgment didn't prevail before she climbed onto his lap. She wasn't even wearing a skirt, something quick and easy to pull up and work past. No, she was in her work pants, and good sense didn't do a damn thing to stop her in all the time it took to maneuver out of them in that cramped space. She had been plain determined to get to that dick.

She lowered her head, the water now beating down on her shower cap. _What did you just do? Why? How?_ He knew it all now. She knew that was why she was so upset. She'd done something that was irrevocable, something that had put her attraction to him on front street when she had already decided it was something she never wanted to deal with. And, worse, it had confirmed his attraction to her, making it something mutual that she couldn't control.

 _So what now?_

* * *

"Found her," Chapman declared.

"That's her?" Kubik replied, sounding surprised.

"Can at least find a work address….."

"What are you going to do when you find her?"

"Get her to tell me what the hell is going on. Maybe Rollins is using her for something, told her something about me that scared her off. Maybe she can tell me where I can find him."

Kubik whispered harshly. "And what if he is a damn cop?"

Reese heard Finch's continued reassurances about Carter in his ear as he opened the door and got out of the car, irate that he'd given his highly perceptive friend a reason to treat him like Carter's overprotective keeper. The dummy law firm, akin to John Warren's investment firm, wasn't going to give him peace of mind. He should have stuck to his gut and kept her uninvolved from the beginning. But since he didn't, he was going to rectify the situation right now. This, this was something he could fix, something within his control. They weren't going to have her sitting at some desk at some phony law firm continuing the charade for Chapman's benefit.

John walked into Kubik's building and up the stairs to his third floor apartment. Showing his face would render Chapman's hunt for Carter moot. Showing his face would divert Chapman's attention to him, not her.

"John? What are you doing?" Finch noticed John's silence and his phone signal drawing nearer to Chapman's.

"Saying 'hi.'"

Finch spoke rapidly. "I'm not sure that's wise, Mr. Reese. Further agitating him. He knows who you are!"

Reese harrumphed. Looked like this was just going to be his night of unwise decisions. "Exactly. Cat's out of the bag, Harold." Satisfied that Finch was now just as exasperated with him as he was with himself, John tapped his earpiece, ending the call and forcing his friend to rely on the microphone to hear whatever was going to happen. Itching for a fight, Reese knocked on Kubik's door. When it opened, Kubik was on the other side. John watched the shocked expression on his face as he immediately looked back toward Chapman. For his part, Chapman rose from his seat on the couch where a laptop was stationed directly in front of him on the coffee table. He looked surprised, too, and Reese watched as his body tensed, obviously ready for a rematch.

Reese let himself in. "Looking for me?" He stood in the middle of the living room, Chapman in front of him, Kubik standing close to the door.

Chapman stood up straighter. "What the hell is this about, Rollins? Where's Joss?"

Reese was supposed to keep his expression neutral like he usually did in these types of situations, but he didn't. Something about hearing Joss's name roll off Chapman's tongue bothered the shit out of him. And it showed on his face abundantly clear. "She's no longer any of your concern."

"You a cop now or something?"

Reese detected nervousness in Chapman's voice. He shook his head. "Not in a million years."

Chapman, looking somewhat emboldened now, took a step towards him. "Then what the fuck do you want? What'd you do with Joss? How do you know her?"

Chapman actually sounded concerned about her and it grated on Reese's beyond raw nerves. And the fact that he'd said her name again….Reese gritted his teeth. "I already told you. _She's no longer your concern_."

"I think she is."

Chapman took another step and Reese advanced too, stopping when he was almost nose to nose with his nemesis. Reese didn't say anything, only leveling his rabid gaze on him.

"What'd you tell her about me?"

"I'm not telling you again." Reese watched Chapman's expression change from indignant to curious and knew his former comrade had just read him front to back.

"You fucking her, Rollins? That it?"

It was crass. It was true. And it set Reese off.

He threw a lightning fast jab to Chapman's throat, effectively knocking the wind out of him before wrapping his hands around his neck and shoving him down onto the coffee table, the laptop skittering onto the floor. Tightening his hold and burrowing his knee into Chapman's ribcage, Reese was wrapped in immense pleasure watching Chapman's face redden as he struggled to breathe. As Chapman's hands clawed at his while he suffocated. As the first signs of life draining out of him took over his body. In his peripheral vision, Reese saw Kubik make a halfhearted move toward them, but one look at his face froze Kubik to his spot.

Reese bored his eyes, potentially the last set of eyes Chapman would ever see, into his captive's as they bulged in panic and distress. When he spoke, his voice was low and threatening and carried an undercurrent of misery. "Don't say her name again."

When he reached that point, the one where he had to decide whether to let the man live or die, he recognized that he had no real reason to kill him and loosened his grip, throwing Chapman to the floor with the last vestiges of his rage.

Knowing he hadn't and wouldn't accomplish a damn thing with this stunt, Reese stormed out of the apartment, not stopping until he'd slammed his car door shut.

Finch breathed a heavy sigh of relief once he ascertained that John was at a safe distance away from Chapman and hadn't killed him. He felt his heart rate begin to slow and took several steadying breaths before the conversation between Kubik and Chapman caught his attention.

"He's as fucking crazy as you are, man," he heard Kubik say while Chapman continued to wheeze. "Least he's probably not a cop. Your girl just has a crazy ass ex. Just let him fucking have her."

* * *

Carter sat on the edge of her bed in her pajamas, fidgeting with her personal cell phone. She spun it around on her thigh, took it out of the new case she'd gotten before putting it back in. She tapped it on her knee, brought it up to eye level to scrutinize every nook and cranny, lowered it again and tapped it on the palm of her other hand. John hadn't called her, which was no surprise, but neither had Harold. As much as she didn't want to talk to either of them, the responsibility she felt toward the case nagged at her.

She had ignored Chapman's phone calls while she had her mini nervous breakdown, but she was a part of this case, a part they had needed. And now that Chapman had seen John, she worried about what was going to happen. What were they planning to do about him? What were they planning to do to protect John? Were they waiting for her to call them? She did flee John's car a complete mess, and since Finch was always listening he probably knew she was a mess, too.

She sighed and threw her head back, her right knee beginning to bounce while she gave herself a pep talk in preparation of her phone call. It was what it was, she told herself. She had sex with her dead, white, outlaw vigilante friend. She hadn't planned on it. He hadn't planned on it. But it happened. It was good as far as cramped car sex went. She still trusted him with her life. They were both adults. Life goes on.

After all of that, though, she dialed Finch's number instead.

"Detective?"

She decided to skip all pleasantries. All business meant no possibility of uncomfortable conversation. It didn't matter that Harold would still know why she was calling him instead of John. "Chapman's been calling me. What do you guys want me to do?"

Harold remembered John's directive and how he was currently acting completely recklessly and pushed his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Please just ignore the phone calls for now, Detective." Finch removed his hand and let his glasses fall back into place.

Carter frowned. "What's the plan?"

"To be quite honest, I don't know." He sighed. "John and I will have to come up with something. We'll be in touch, Detective."

Carter's frown deepened. Finch didn't sound like himself. He sounded tired and defeated and was referring to John and himself in the future tense. If he and John weren't plotting right now, what was John doing? With the way she'd left him, how she'd left him, maybe he wasn't okay either. She wanted to ask Finch about him but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had John's number. Finch didn't ask to be in the middle of their mess. "Okay, I'll be here."

"Goodnight, Detective."

"Goodnight."

* * *

"Carter." Fusco greeted Joss as he walked into the bullpen the following morning.

"You get anything yesterday?" She watched as her partner settled behind his desk with a cup of coffee. She was grateful for the normalcy of the day so far, and that at least one member of their clandestine team didn't know she'd slept with John yesterday.

Fusco reclined back in his chair. "Yep. Database came back up after you left. I think we're dealing with a serial killer."

That got her attention. "The marking on her chest got a hit?"

Fusco nodded while she turned her attention to her monitor and opened up the repository. He got up with his coffee cup and walked around to her desk to look over her shoulder while giving her the rundown. "Four other cases similar to Walker's. Thin, blonde white women. Late thirties to early forties. The letter "F" written on their chests with a black permanent marker. Sexually assaulted, strangled, and left for dead in an alley. All in Seattle, though. Maybe the killer relocated? The last Seattle victim was killed four months ago..."

Carter tuned Fusco out at that point. Seattle.

Seattle.

Her thoughts raced.

"...we don't have the autopsy results yet but our vic was definitely strangled. I talked to her husband. I'm not thinking he had anything to do with it…."

Her partner continued to talk while she ran through everything she knew about Chapman. Bitter over an ex. Recent transplant from Seattle. Karen Walker was killed about four days ago. Chapman had been in town then.

Finch and John being unable to figure out why he was their person of interest. The overall creepy vibe she had gotten from him.

She lowered her voice and looked up at Fusco as he peered over her shoulder. "This might be linked to our friends' case. That's why I left this to you yesterday. I was trying to help them with their person of interest. Guy by the name of Tom Chapman." She pulled out her cell phone. "Did you talk to the M.E. yet? Was she able to get any DNA or prints?" She dialed Finch's number and put the phone up to her ear.

Fusco straightened up. "DNA yeah. We should get the profile later today."

"Detective?" Finch answered.

"Did you ever get the name of Chapman's ex?"

"Yes. Diane Wentzell." Finch waited for her to continue.

Carter opened another window and typed in Diane Wentzell's name. Two results showed up and she clicked on the one who wasn't in her seventies. Her driver's license and picture popped up. As Carter suspected, she fit the victim profile of the killer. And her maiden name was Forrester. "F."

Carter spoke into her phone. "We need to meet up. It's about Chapman. I might know what's going on."

"I'll text you an address, Detective."

Hanging up, Joss pocketed her phone and turned back to the monitor, scanning over the information. No fingerprints found on or near the bodies. DNA found. She needed to find out if Chapman was in CODIS or the Armed Forces Repository of Specimen Samples. If he was, there obviously hadn't been a hit during the investigations of the original cases and she was off base. But if he wasn't…..

She addressed Fusco again. "He was in the military. I'm gonna check to see if I get a hit on his DNA. Check CODIS?"

Fusco started back to his desk. "Description?"

"'Bout 6'3", 6'4". White. Brown hair, brown eyes. I'll know it's the right one when I see him."

"On it."

* * *

When Carter walked into the nondescript diner, Harold was already there waiting. Along with John. Even though she'd told herself to act normal when she saw him, her heart still skipped a nervous beat. He was sitting across from Finch at a table, facing the door as usual. Facing her. When he met her eyes, his expression was completely neutral, like he didn't know her from Eve. She refused to acknowledge that tiny pang of hurt that stabbed at her heart and walked up to their table. She was already uncomfortable, already wishing she could be somewhere else, but she knew that the sooner she got down to business, the sooner she could be on her way.

Making a split-second decision to sit beside John so that she wouldn't have to look into his expressionless face, she nodded toward Harold in greeting. The elephant at their table loomed large instantly as she felt John's tension and heat across the inches long chasm that separated them. She was grateful when Finch cut through it.

"You have information for us, Detective?"

She shifted in her seat. "Yeah. I caught a case yesterday morning. Woman was killed in Greenwich Village. Looks like she was raped and strangled to death. The killer marked her with a letter F on her chest. Fusco ran it through the database." She paused for emphasis. "There were four other similar murders all committed in Seattle. Same exact M.O." She watched realization dawn on Finch's face.

Finch looked over at John who was focused on some point on the table, but he knew he was listening. "When was the murder committed?"

"I don't have an exact time of death yet but we're assuming the body had been there for a few days. Which was just before I met Chapman at the support group meeting.

"The victims all have a similar profile, and they're all similar to his ex, Diane. Whose maiden name is Forrester."

"F," Finch supplied.

She nodded. "Exactly. The killer left his DNA on the most recent victim and all the others, but Chapman's not in the system."

"What about his military records?"

Carter nodded again, having anticipated that question. "The military has his DNA but it was taken back in the early days of military sampling when it was only used to help ID those killed in action. Since he wasn't, it was never processed."

Finch nodded as she continued.

"Now, I could try to get a warrant for those samples but I'd have to have probable cause.

I can't just say some outlaw vigilantes pointed me in his direction."

"We can perhaps wait for Mr. Chapman to dispose of a cup or some other item on public grounds, and obtain a fresh sample."

She nodded. "Right. But I'll still need reason to suspect him in the first place." Carter bit her bottom lip in thought. "I could go with the truth. I met him at a support group meeting, we went out a couple of times. I got a bad feeling about him because of the case I was working on…"

"It might work, yes. However, he believes you're an attorney. The subterfuge may cause difficulties down the line if he concerns his lawyer with that knowledge."

She shrugged. "Well, technically, I am." She continued with her thought. "But I just met him. Maybe I didn't want him to know I was a cop. Some men are too insecure to handle it."

Harold nodded, analyzing their options and wondering if his friend and partner was going to remain mute until Detective Carter left. John had at least lifted his eyes from the table to stare at him with a laser focus clearly designed to keep him from glancing at the woman sitting next to him.

"Other than that, he'd need to be arrested for some other serious offense in order for us to get his DNA into the system. But that may be more trouble than is necessary."

"Agreed, Detective. Mr. Reese—" He glanced over to his partner, hoping to bring him into the conversation by using his name. "—can get the sample to you as soon as possible."

Carter sighed softly, the tiniest bit of doubt whispering in her mind. "What if we're wrong and it's not him?"

Reese spoke, surprising them both. "It's him. I'll take care of it." Then, he abruptly rose from his chair and headed toward the exit.

Joss didn't bother to watch him leave, instead looking down at the table. She knew she had no right to be upset by his total and unusual lack of acknowledgement. She had run out on him yesterday like he'd burned her. Did she expect him to throw her a parade? Embarrassed and ashamed, she felt the need to apologize to Harold for their behavior. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Harold."

Finch had hoped they could avoid all mention of the _incident_ , as he was referring to it in his head. The discomfort was more than enough without assigning words to it. He forced a polite smile for her benefit, unsure of what to say. "No need to apologize, Detective." Then, after several beats. "I'm certain things will work out in due time." Internally, he worried. John's already tenuous hold on contentment was fraying if his actions last night and his behavior today were any indication.

* * *

John hurried out of the diner and to the small parking lot where he'd parked his car. She'd sat right next to him, looking the way she always looked. Smelling the way she always smelled. He had to get out of there.

He'd told himself to treat this meeting like just another mission. To turn himself off and do the job. He didn't want to feel anything when he saw her. Didn't want either of them to see the myriad of emotions he was trying to outrun. Embarrassment that he'd lost control last night at Kubik's place with Finch listening in picked at him. Fear that he'd lost Carter's friendship gnawed at him. Guilt that he didn't stop them, that he let them get carried away ate at him. But the worst of it, the one thing he still wouldn't fully acknowledge, was the hurt. She'd regretted it and the pain of rejection screamed at him like an open wound. He had gotten through his day-to-day dealings with her knowing, even if he never took it, he still had that one shot. He had that tiny sliver of hope that she'd want him like he wanted her one day. It had been enough at the time. But that was gone now. He had taken his shot and missed by a mile.

And to top it off he'd put her in the crosshairs of a rapist serial killer.

He got behind the wheel of his car and pulled away from the diner, grateful for every mile of distance between him and his mistake. Grateful that he had an assignment, however brief and straightforward, to distract his mind. Grateful that this frustrating case was approaching its conclusion.

He just hated that trying to keep his identity a secret had ended up costing him so much.

And Chapman had found out who he was anyway.

~TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Carter let out a breath as she left her lieutenant's office. The meeting to discuss her "gut feeling" about Tom Chapman, the vet she just "happened" to meet at a support group meeting, had gone relatively well, and she was certain she had her fairly sterling reputation to thank for that. The foundation had successfully been laid to surreptitiously but legally obtain Chapman's DNA sample. Although she could and should get it herself, she'd resigned herself to just let John handle it. He hadn't given her any choice when he left the diner yesterday anyway, and she was in no way inclined to argue with him about it, or talk to him about anything at all.

"How'd it go?" Fusco looked up at her from his desk.

She gave him a brief smile. "It went." She sat down in her chair. "Just need to get the sample and bat my eyelashes at Tedoni down at forensics so we can get the results back in less than a decade."

Fusco chuckled.

"Lieutenant's gonna go along with my hunch but she's not gonna fast track anything."

"Get it to him this morning, Tedoni'll have it for you by lunch."

Carter rolled her eyes.

"Hey, it pays to have a CSI you can string along."

"I am not stringing him along." Her desk phone rang and she picked it up. "Carter." After a few moments, she hung up, opening her desk drawer to retrieve her holster and badge. "That was Hoffman. Preliminary autopsy results are in." She closed the drawer, grabbed her keys, and made her way out of the precinct.

* * *

Reese removed his nitrile gloves after bagging Chapman's used coffee cup and placing it in the glove compartment. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, opening his tracking app to determine Carter's location. She wasn't at the precinct. Fusco, however, was and John briefly considered leaving the cup with him. He closed the app and sighed, hesitating before dialing Carter's number. Finch beeped in before he could and he gratefully tapped his earpiece.

"John? We have a new number."

Reese frowned. He had worried about that. A new number coming in before they had finished with this one. "See if you can get Fusco to do some preliminary work on it, Finch."

"I can certainly do that, John, but there is not much else we can do right now with regards to Mr. Chapman. Have you obtained a sample yet?"

"Just now."

"Detective Carter is at the medical examiner's office. Perhaps you can meet her there." Finch waited for an answer, but decided to continue when he didn't get one. "I'll keep an eye on Mr. Chapman's location from here, John, but the matter is pretty much resolved. Detective Carter will continue to handle it from her end. And so far, in spite of your confrontation with him, he doesn't appear to be concerned enough about you to inquire about your post-military life." Finch cocked his head slightly. "Or death rather."

Reese knew Finch was right, and he was ready to wipe his hands of this case days ago, but he didn't feel comfortable dropping his personal surveillance. "I think I should see this one through, Harold."

Finch sighed, having known it wouldn't be that easy. But he was prepared. "John, all of the murders were committed months apart. Four to five to be exact. Serial killers tend to stick to a strict pattern. Which means it's safe to assume that he won't be going on the hunt anytime soon. We can let the NYPD take it from here." Harold sensed his partner's continued resistance and added softly, "And Detective Carter, even if he knew where she lived or worked, doesn't fit his victim profile. She's safe."

Reese took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly, trying to invoke his rational thinking and see things from Finch's perspective. He forced the words out even as his irrational thoughts continued. "Okay, Finch. I'll drop this off with Carter and then I'll be there." Tapping his earpiece, Reese lowered his head and closed his eyes, giving himself a full sixty seconds to try to believe that Chapman would be behind bars within a few days and he'd be able to breathe easier. Then, he dialed Carter's number, imagining her hesitation when she saw who was calling.

"Carter."

She barked out her name in the way he was used to and it relaxed him, if only a little. "I have the sample for you."

"Where?"

He chose a location a block away from the medical examiner's office so that she wouldn't have to go out of her way. "Meet me at 1st and East 25th in fifteen minutes."

"Will do."

* * *

Joss wrapped up her business with the M.E. and walked the block toward their designated meeting point. Her heart was beating rapidly and she wished, not for the first time, that they could fast-forward a month or two, to some future point in time where they were past the awkwardness and things were more or less back to normal. She was tired of thinking about it at every slow moment of her day, about how good it had felt and how that genie could never be put back in the bottle. She was tired of feeling embarrassed about how she'd run out on him and of not knowing what he was thinking.

When she spotted his sedan, she forced a calm exterior while her jumbled mess of nerves wreaked havoc on her insides. How he'd acted yesterday flashed in her mind and there was no worse feeling than knowing she had hurt him when all he'd ever done was care about her. The closer she got, the more erratic her heart beat and, if he hadn't already probably seen her, she would have turned around and left to try to get her anxiety under control.

In no time, she found herself at the passenger side door and saw her hand reach for the door handle, knowing at that moment that her time was up.

She settled into the front seat and closed the door. Her throat felt constricted and she didn't know what to say.

Without preamble, he reached over and opened the glove box, retrieving a ziploc bag. He handed it to her, the tension already so thick he wanted to roll the windows down just so he could breathe.

"Thanks," she heard herself say. But then she didn't move. And neither did he.

They sat there, Joss fiddling with the bag in her lap, John looking out the windshield. This was the same car it had happened in. Flashbacks riddled with guilt, regret, joy, contentment, and fear played out on the screens in their minds.

Carter turned to look at him when he pressed pause.

"Let me know if you need another one."

She nodded before turning back to the bag in her hand. "Hopefully this'll do it. I have to try to sweet talk the tech, see if we can get it back sooner rather than later. M.E.'s got the DNA from Karen's body so we should be good to go."

Reese turned to look at her, missing her now more than ever, wondering what it would take to get things back to the way they were. "Preliminary results?"

"What we suspected. Sexual assault, strangulation."

He nodded, deciding to fill her in on the most recent developments. "Finch and I have a new case. He thinks we've done all we can do with this one. We'll still track him via phone, but he's taking me off Chapman."

"He's right. I need to handle this one straight here on out. Besides, I don't think Chapman's going to make any moves any time soon going by his M.O. _If_ he's the killer." Joss turned back to him, cautiously broaching the subject that had started it all. "What about you? Do you think he's going to figure out you're supposed to be dead?"

John shook his head. "Don't think so."

She could tell they were running out of things to talk about. "Good." But now that she was alone with him again, now that they had managed to speak a few words to one another, now that they were back where all the drama started, she wanted to talk about it. She wanted to apologize for getting carried away and then running out on him. She wanted to do something to start them on the path to normalcy. Was he ready? Would he be receptive? Would he forgive her? Just when she opened her mouth to talk, her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She closed her eyes in silent protest before taking it out of her pocket and putting it to her ear.

John stopped holding his breath while she spoke on the phone. He had been waiting for her to say something. Because he had no idea what to say. He shook his head to himself imperceptibly. That wasn't entirely true. He knew what he wanted to tell her, but he also knew she wouldn't want to hear it. He looked out the window at the goings-on, listening to her end of the conversation. She was needed somewhere. She would be leaving as soon as she hung up. He was going to miss his chance, and that was probably a good thing.

Carter turned back to him, watching as he turned to meet her eyes. "I gotta go. Thanks for this." At his nod, she unintentionally held his eyes. Swallowing, she opened the car door and left.

Reese watched her go until she was no longer within his sights.

* * *

Two fairly uneventful days passed before the other shoe dropped. Carter had been feeling a slight sense of normalcy as she continued to work her day job, waited for Chapman's DNA results, attended parent-teacher conferences at Taylor's school, and blessedly didn't hear from John. She'd needed the break from all the tumult of the past week and felt cheerful as she sat down outside of _Larry's Crab Bistro_ to enjoy her lunch in the patio under the warm, bright afternoon sun. But five bites into her lobster pasta salad, dread tickled her senses before she looked up and it punched her square in the face.

"Long time no see, Joss."

It was Chapman, and she knew that the gun and badge on her hip were broadcasting loudly that the jig was up. Her mind raced, wondering how he'd found her and how she was going to handle this. She struggled to wipe the deer in the headlights look off her face before her training kicked in and she was able to calm her nerves while assessing the situation. "Yeah, I've been….a little busy." She watched him carefully watch her with a casual smile on his face. "What are you doing here?"

He motioned across the street. "I was over there looking for a new watch. Thought I saw you."

She nodded, wondering whether it truly was an unfortunate coincidence.

"You stopped answering my calls. You weren't at the meeting last night." He shrugged his shoulder. "Was a little worried about you after your ex dragged you out that night."

 _Ex?_ The label threw her but she put effort into making her ensuing question sound casual as she prodded him to clarify. She leaned back in her chair. "What makes you think he's my ex?"

Chapman pulled out the chair across from her and took a seat. He leaned back, both arms on the armrests, nearly matching Carter's posture. "A man always knows when he's invading someone else's turf."

He smiled at her, knowingly, and it made her shift in her seat. There was no way he could have known what had happened between them, was there? No, there was no way, she reassured herself.

"Plus, he paid me a visit that night, told me I better stay away from you."

Carter didn't know whether he was lying or not, and if he was why he would make something like this up, but she played the part regardless. She lowered her head briefly, appearing to be wholly embarrassed before she looked back up at him. "Sorry about that. He's…..something I need to deal with."

Chapman nodded slowly, still eyeing her carefully. "He the ex-husband?"

Joss shook her head, knowing he was trying to catch her in a lie. She'd already told him her ex-husband's name was Patrick. "No, just….someone else."

He shifted forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Rollins always was a miserable bastard. Enjoyed killing way too much." He eyed her pointedly. "You should be more careful. About the company you keep."

A chill ran down her spine. It wasn't so much what he said but how. His tone and the way he was looking at her. It was probably the same look he used when he was sizing up his next victim. Ignoring the feeling, she continued to play along, squinting her eyes in confusion. "You know him?"

"He didn't tell you?"

She released a long-suffering sigh. "No. Anytime he sees me with someone else, he acts a fool. I didn't know you knew each other."

Chapman nodded slightly. "He was in my unit back in '93. Interesting coincidence, huh?"

It wasn't, she thought. Not the least little bit.

* * *

Finch looked at his tracking map and his heartbeat started to race as he opened up a window to listen to Detective Carter's microphone feed. Confirming what he had unfortunately suspected, he quickly considered the situation. Tom Chapman had somehow found the detective. But he'd approached her in broad daylight. She was working so she probably was armed, and she hadn't attempted to call or text either of them. It was her case, they had backed away for propriety, but something urged him to let John know what was going on. "Mr. Reese?" He waited for his partner's response.

"Go ahead, Finch."

"We might have a problem."

Reese waited for his friend to continue, generally unconcerned. They'd never handled a single number without some sort of problem.

"Tom Chapman has found Detective Carter. It looks like they're outside of _Larry's Crab Bistro_ in lower Manhattan." Finch knew the silence that soon prevailed was his friend trying to grasp this turn of events. "They're just talking at the moment. In a public place. I'm not certain we should be alarmed just yet, but I'm going to keep—"

"I'm on my way, Finch." He cursed profusely in his mind as he started the car and headed toward Manhattan. He tried to remind himself that they were in public in broad daylight and she was probably armed, but rationality tended to fail him when it came to her.

Harold accepted John's declaration without argument as he felt unease trying to grip him as well. "Sending you the address now, John."

Looking down at his phone, John's panic level rose. He was fifteen minutes away. Anything could happen in fifteen minutes. He stepped on the gas. He needed to get that down to five. "How the hell did he find her, Harold?"

Finch shook his head and spoke softly. "I wish I knew."

* * *

"So, Joss..." Chapman sat back in his chair again. "...I didn't know family lawyers carried a gun and a badge."

She had been waiting for it and she was prepared. "I'm a cop. I just don't tell every man that I meet. A lot of them feel threatened and can't handle it."

He looked at her lasciviously. "I can handle it."

She tried to act stupidly flattered, or at least amused, but his statement turned her stomach and she ended up regarding him coolly.

"I can handle Rollins, too." Anger flashed behind his eyes. "What's he been up to lately?"

Carter shrugged casually, but inwardly she panicked. She was unprepared to weave a tale about John. If John had told him to stay away from her like Chapman said, what else had they talked about? Was Chapman trying to trip her up right now? She took a sip of her drink to buy herself a little time. "Who the hell knows? I think he's done everything from….bodyguard work to something down on Wall Street."

"Mm. He ever do cop work?"

"I doubt it. He does _not_ have the discipline for it."

After a beat, he asked. "How long you been a cop?"

"Ever since I left the military," she responded vaguely, grateful to be finished with the John questions. At least for now.

Chapman nodded. "You like it?"

She shrugged. "Pays the bills."

"I bet Taylor worries. You never showed me a picture of her."

She smiled. "Something else I don't show men I just met." She watched him look down and nod to himself sheepishly, trying to keep her from noticing the fishing expedition he was on. She was ninety-nine percent certain he was a serial killer and, now that he knew she was a cop, she was also certain he wanted to know above all else if she had stumbled into his life because she was somehow on to him. The last thing she wanted was for him to become more of a flight risk than he already was so she knew she needed to make him believe she had no idea who he truly was.

"I forgot. You're a cop. I know you know more than anyone else to be cautious." His small smile faded. "Lot of crazies out there."

Joss nodded. "Exactly."

He looked down at the table. "Just the other day, I heard about some woman getting murdered over in Greenwich Village. They said she was just on her way home, minding her own business." He looked back up at her.

 _Fishing expedition and now the test._ "Yeah, that one was all over the precinct. Sounds like it was completely random. Those are always the hardest ones to solve." She looked into the distance and added softly for good measure, "That son of a bitch is probably long gone. Nothing worse than not being able to give a victim's family closure…."

Chapman nodded again and she met his eyes. Before she could fully gauge whether she'd hit her mark or not, her phone buzzed on the table beside her plate.

 _Unknown: I'm coming. 5 min._

She picked it up and typed her reply. _Handling it. Stay away._ The last thing she needed was her "ex" conveniently showing up again, guns blazing in the middle of this restaurant patio while she was trying to convince Chapman there was no conspiracy against him.

"Is that work?"

"Yeah." She pocketed her phone and took a sip of her water. "My partner. Located a witness we've been looking for." She pushed her chair back but didn't get up. "I gotta get going." At his nod, she continued. "Listen, uh, sorry about John. I know you didn't sign up for all that."

"Can't say I blame him. Always that one woman that can drive a man crazy."

Tossing him a small smile, she got up from her chair and reached down for her tray. He rose with her, pulling the tray from her hand.

"Let me get that."

"Thanks." She started to walk away until he called for her.

"Joss?"

She turned back to face him.

"Be careful."

Forcing another smile, it immediately fell from her face as she turned away from him and headed for her car parked two blocks up the street. Before she could retrieve her phone from her pocket to call John, an unknown caller was calling her. She answered and Finch started speaking before she could say hello.

"John is on his way. Is he following you?"

"I don't know yet. Let me get to my car first."

"Wait. Detective. I just lost Chapman's phone signal. He's turned off his phone."

 _Shit._ That wasn't a good sign. She remembered his parting line to her. Be careful. Coming from a serial killer who no longer trusted her, it was an extremely bad sign.

Reaching her car, she casually looked down the direction from which she came, just barely catching someone entering a car that was the same make, model, and color that she knew he drove.

 _Shit, shit._ She sat in the car for several moments with the key in the ON position, waiting to see what the driver of that car would do. "I think he got in his car and he's waiting for me to move." She set her phone in the cupholder once the Bluetooth connected and listened to Finch relay everything—to John presumably—while weighing her options. She could stay put all damn day and wait him out, but he didn't have a damn job so he had all the time in the world. Knowing she needed to make a move, she started the car and pulled out into traffic.

"Detective, Mr. Reese advises that you stay put. He'll be there momentarily."

She shook her head, her attention alternating between the road and the car that was now following her. "Too late. I'm on the move and it looks like he's following me."

"Where do you intend to go?"

"Nowhere. I'm gonna try to lose him." She sighed to herself, wondering where Tedoni was with those DNA results. If she'd gotten them this morning like she thought she would, none of this would be happening. He'd promised to put her at the top of his list but there must have been twenty other people at the top of the list with her. She listened to Finch talk to John once more as she headed out of the city.

"John is two minutes behind you, Detective."

"Okay. Good. He can probably help me lose him faster."

"Precisely."

She noticed how the tension she felt in her shoulders began to dissipate with the knowledge that John was only two minutes away. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and concentrated on the road ahead.

Reaching an overpass, she decided to take the McMahon exit. Losing a tail on the highway was damn near impossible. She brought her eyes to the rearview mirror once more just in time to register Chapman accelerating suddenly but not in enough time to react. A shriek ripped through her throat at the collision and terror sustained her as she lost all control of her vehicle. Crashing through the worthless guardrail, everything happened in slow motion as her car barrelled toward the concrete bottom and she braced herself for the violent impact. She thought about Taylor, and John being only two minutes away. Then, there was nothing.

~TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"Detective Carter?...Detective, are you there?...Joss?" Finch's heart was almost demanding to pound out of his chest. Her scream and sounds of a crash of some sort, followed by the deafening silence told him everything he needed to know but absolutely didn't want to.

"Finch?" Reese's stern voice questioned his employer.

"John. I think she's been in an accident."

Reese's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Adrenaline compounded within him and his focus drifted from Carter to Chapman. To the many ways he could make Chapman suffer before killing him. He settled on two before Finch interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm going to try to access the traffic cameras."

"Chapman. Find him Finch," Reese bit off. "I'm pulling up now." He pulled to the side of the road where two other vehicles sat with their hazard lights flashing. He carried his rage out of the car and over to the bridge where two women stood, one of whom was speaking to a 911 operator about the hit and run she'd just witnessed. He preferred it over his fear. Anger mobilized him. Fear right now would only paralyze him.

As he looked over the bridge, he saw her totaled car below. One full day of torture before death wouldn't be enough. Three days. Water torture, some electrical torture. Psychological torture. One day each. Finch would just have to get by without him. Harold was resourceful. He could do it.

Looking for a way to get to her, he slipped out of his suit jacket and climbed over the guardrail, ignoring the watchful eyes of the women who had stopped to help. He leveled himself along the deck and inched himself over to the nearest support beam. It wouldn't be easy maintaining a grip all the way down the large, cylindrical pillar, but he would be damned if he killed himself in a fall before taking Chapman out first.

Using his hands and the rubber soles of his shoes, he climbed quickly down the pillar, hearing sirens approaching when his feet hit the ground. He raced toward the mangled vehicle, not letting himself think of what he may or may not find. By the horrible looks of it, her car had flipped more than once and landed on its hood. Reaching the vehicle, he squatted by the driver's side door among broken glass and other debris. She was upside down, restrained by the seat belt, bleeding from contusions on her face. But relief pushed through his wrath when he reached in to touch the side of her face and her head turned toward the touch. "Joss? I'm here. You're gonna be okay." She groaned and tried to move, her arms hanging above her head. "Hey. Don't move, Joss. Try not to move. Ambulance is coming." He searched the inside of her vehicle for her cell phone. He carefully reached past her when he spotted it behind the driver's seat on the roof. "You're gonna be alright." The phone was still working and he spoke into the microphone since he'd left his phone in his jacket on the bridge. "She's gonna be okay, Finch." Saying it made it real in spite of how awful she looked. Chapman was going to be dead, but she was going to be okay.

Reese looked up as two male bystanders approached.

"Hey, she okay?"

The sirens sounded louder.

Reese nodded before turning back to caress her face. "They're almost here. You're gonna be okay, Joss. Just hang in there."

She heard him. She knew he was there. But she couldn't open her eyes to see him, couldn't open her mouth to tell him she believed him. That even though she felt herself being pulled away into a black hole of nothingness, she trusted his words.

John refused to take his eyes away from her, even as one of the men who had come to help announced the arrival of the first responders. She had stopped responding to his touch, semi-consciousness giving way to total darkness. He plotted his next move, feeling torn between wanting to stay with her until he knew for sure that she was going to heal, and needing to find the bastard who had done this to her. He was pulled away from his thoughts when a paramedic touched his shoulder.

"Sir, give us some space, please."

Reese reluctantly got to his feet and backed away, watching as the emergency workers began the work of stabilizing her. He kept a watchful eye on her as the cops questioned him and the other two men about whether they'd seen what had happened. John Warren had answered truthfully—that he'd come upon the scene after the fact—but Reese knew what had happened and that none of this was going to matter anyway once he found Chapman. He continued to hover nearby as they finally extricated her from the vehicle, following the gurney to the waiting ambulance. She had fought her way back to consciousness as they traversed the gravel and his heart constricted in his chest when she called out to him in her delirium. He hurried forward so that he was beside the gurney and she could see him. "Right here, Joss. You're gonna be okay," he repeated.

"O-kaaaay?" she slurred.

"Yes. They're going to take you to the hospital. You're going to be fine."

"Okay. Okay…..Okay."

They reached the ambulance and the paramedics pushed her inside. He handed one of them her phone. "Here's her phone."

Correctly assuming the two knew one another, the paramedic who took her phone asked, "You riding?"

He wanted to. What if she called for him again and he wasn't there? What if she needed him? What if something bad happened along the way?

But Chapman.

There was nothing he could do for her right now. The doctors and nurses were the only ones who could help her at the moment. He couldn't just sit around doing nothing while Chapman got farther and farther away. He had to get him. For every woman Chapman had terrorized and murdered. For Joss. But mostly for all the fury pulsating through his veins. "No."

"Okay." She jumped into the ambulance along with another paramedic while a third closed the doors and hurried to the driver's seat.

John watched it pull away before turning back in the direction from which he came. He glanced at the wreckage and the swarm of cops and firemen and women one last time before eventually making his way back to the bridge where he grabbed his jacket and got back into his car. "Finch? Anything yet?"

"He hasn't turned his phone back on yet nor has he made any financial transactions. How is Detective Carter?" Finch could still listen in on the paramedics through her phone but he was more interested in what John had seen for himself.

Reese shrugged his shoulder even though Finch couldn't see it and spoke quietly. He had never seen her hurt before. Bloody. Out of it. He felt shaken. "I think she'll be okay, Harold." He pushed it out of his mind for now. "I'm gonna head to Kubik's. If he's on his way out of town, he might stop there first."

"Yes, I've not seen his vehicle near the apartment yet but it's possible he's parked it out of the cameras views. If he's smart enough to turn his cell phone off, he's probably smart enough to avoid cameras."

Reese said nothing further as he continued on his way.

* * *

Ron Kubik's place was quiet and empty when Reese arrived. He prowled around the one bedroom apartment, looking for any sign of a hasty departure, but saw none. He tapped his earpiece. "Finch, I don't see any signs that Chapman's been here. Laptop's still here." He squatted next to a large, partially open suitcase in a corner of the living room. He flipped it open and looked through the contents. "Suitcase is still here." Finding nothing of interest, he stood up and looked around again.

"Do you think he'll return, Mr. Reese?"

Reese shook his head. "I'm not sure. He thinks he killed a cop who was coming after him. I wouldn't risk it." He sighed heavily.

"He hasn't contacted Mr. Kubik yet either."

"Where is he?"

"At work I presume." There was a brief pause. "Right now, he's at the four hundred block of Seychelles Street. Reading meters most likely."

Reese nodded to himself. "Think I'll go have a chat with him." He added through gritted teeth, "See if he knows where his buddy would go." Having come in prepared not to find anyone, Reese quickly went to work planting the cameras and bugs he'd brought in with him. If Chapman did eventually come back, they'd know it.

* * *

Before Ron Kubik could even get into his work truck fully, he faced the business end of a gun from the passenger side. He looked around for a way out automatically, but he wasn't in a part of town where too many people would be inclined to help him. "Shit."

"Get in." Reese instructed him.

Doing as he was told, Kubik got behind the steering wheel.

"Drive."

"Where?"

"Forward, Ron."

Kubik sighed deeply before starting the truck and pulling away from the curb. "Look, man. Tom's just staying with me. I don't know what the fuck he's into. If he's still messing with your girl, man, I don't know shit about that."

The mention of Carter renewed John's sense of urgency and shortened his temper until it was just a nub. He shoved the gun into Kubik's right cheek. "Turn left here and shut up." He continued to give his captive directions until they parked in an abandoned alley. "Get out of the car."

Doing as he was told, Kubik exited the vehicle, Reese drawing a bead on him as he followed him out through the driver's side door. John motioned for him to round the front of the truck before throwing him down onto the hood. He held Kubik's neck in a vice-like grip while training his gun mere centimeters away from his left eye.

"Where's Chapman?"

"I don't know, man, I been at work all day!"

Reese jammed the barrel of the gun into Kubik's eye and his face contorted in fear. "Listen to me carefully, Ron. Your buddy put Joss in the hospital today." Reese tightened his grip on Kubik's neck. "You help me find him or I'll put you down right now."

"I don't know where he is, I swear! I swear!"

"Where would he go?"

"I don't know, man, I don't know!"

Reese pushed the gun in harder.

"Shit, man! I don't—Wait. Wait, wait, wait. He's got, uh, he's got a cousin and—and an uncle I think. They, uh, they're out in Queens somewhere. I don't think he talks to them but maybe, maybe he went there. Look, man, I swear. I don't know anything else. I swear!"

Reese pierced Kubik's retinas, his soul, his very spirit with his unrelenting stare. Convinced that he wasn't lying, that he would save his own neck over Chapman's, John was torn between letting the man go because he knew nothing and wanting to kill him because he knew nothing.

Ultimately, he released Kubik's neck and took two steps back, keeping the gun trained on him while his hostage breathed a sigh of relief. But then he remembered something. Something that had irked him.

The Machine had only given them Chapman's number, but Reese remembered the conversation he'd overheard between Chapman and Kubik before he'd confronted them. Where Reese had gotten the distinct impression that Kubik was involved in whatever Chapman had been or was doing. But what was it about? Were they tag-teaming on the murders? There was nothing about more than one person's DNA being found on the victims.

Reese was generally very good at reading people, and Ron Kubik just didn't strike him as being a cold-blooded killer. He could usually see the signs, and Kubik had beta written all over him. He was weak, a follower. And serial killers didn't work in packs.

Reese stepped forward again, this time placing the gun underneath Kubik's chin as he leaned over him. "What did you and Chapman do back in Seattle? Why'd he have a place to stay with you when you can barely stand him?"

Kubik's eyes widened in shock. Panic, fear, and guilt swirled in his eyes and John knew it wouldn't take much for him to spill. "What's he got on you, Kubik?" He raised his voice. "What's he got?!"

Tears started to well up in Kubik's eyes as he shook his head back and forth sorrowfully. "Who the hell are you, man?"

Reese decided he was only going to give this sixty more seconds of his time. Even though it was a longshot, he needed to get to Chapman's estranged uncle and cousin as soon as possible. And he needed an update on Carter. "Ten seconds, Kubik. I'm not a cop so don't think I won't blow your head off and end your misery right here and now."

Kubik sniveled and sniffled some more. "It wasn't me, man. I didn't do it. It was Tom, it wasn't me."

"What?"

Kubik fought the confession for a few more seconds before it came spilling out. "That girl. That woman. Back home."

"Who?"

"Oh God…...The one…..the one they couldn't solve."

John bared his teeth and dug the gun deeper into Kubik's flesh. " _Give me her name._ "

"It was Rose. Rose Sapernieck. He told me….He told me we were just gonna rob the house. That no one was home. But he knew she was home alone. We broke in and I started grabbing some stuff and he went back to her bedroom and he…..he attacked her and then he killed her. It wasn't me, man, I swear. I wouldn't do anything like that. But I knew if he went down for it, I was going down with him because I was there, too, man. I swear…." He was sobbing now. "I didn't do it."

Believing him and having bigger fish to fry at the moment, Reese let him go and stalked out of the alley, tapping his earpiece as he walked along the sidewalk. "What've you got, Finch?"

"Rose Sapernieck is an unsolved murder, John. She's not been linked to the other killings. She was killed in 2007, before the serial killings began."

"Send this to Fusco, Harold." Reese paused. "Nothing on Chapman?"

Finch sighed softly. "He remains off the grid for now."

"I'm going to check out his uncle and cousin. If he's desperate, he may go to them."

"Please be careful, Mr. Reese. The police are looking for Mr. Chapman now, as well." Finch wouldn't say it, but he hoped the NYPD would get to Tom Chapman before they did. Because he was feeling a dread similar to the one he'd felt last year during the Marshall Jennings debacle. When the case was too personal for John to use caution and reason. And this time Detective Carter was the impetus instead of the choke hold.

"How is she?" Reese braced himself for the worst. She had been conscious when he left her but there was no telling what kind of internal injuries she may have suffered.

Finch drew his eyes to his far left screen where Carter's hacked, up-to-date electronic medical record was displayed. "She's in surgery right now." Harold read through the information quickly. "For some internal bleeding….No sign of any spinal injuries….Broken wrist…..Grade 3 concussion, numerous contusions….." He sat back in his chair, relaxing a bit, hoping that the not-so-terrible news would ease some of his friend's simmering wrath. "Detective Fusco is at the hospital with her right now, along with her mother and young Taylor."

Reese nodded, closing his eyes momentarily to take in the relatively good news. "She just needs to pull through the surgery."

Finch nodded. "And she will, John. She will." He recalled the local news website's recently published photos of the horrific looking aftermath. "She was quite lucky."

 _Chapman won't be._ Reese continued the walk toward where he'd left his vehicle. He hadn't ordered Kubik to drive far. "We need to find him, Finch." He was stating the obvious but his anger needed an outlet—the right outlet—and it needed it soon.

Harold sighed. "There's one more thing." He knew that what he had to say next would only add fuel to the fire, but John would find out shortly anyway. "Detective Fusco just informed me. The lab processed the DNA results this morning. It's him."

Reese's hardened resolve turned to diamond, but his chest hurt. "This morning?"

Finch spoke softly. "This morning."

They both left the words unspoken.

* * *

Reese paused a couple of doors down from Carter's private hospital room late the following morning. There was a policeman standing guard outside her door and he quickly went over his options to get into her room.

His visit to Chapman's uncle and cousin had been fruitless as he'd feared. Neither had seen nor heard from dear old Tom. Afterwards, John had resorted to following Kubik, staking out his apartment for the night. Then, he'd found himself in the lower east side after Finch relayed to him that the cops had found Chapman's damaged car there with stolen plates but no Chapman. By morning, Fusco had reported to them that a woman had been robbed by a man matching Chapman's description in Soho, so Reese had soon found himself in that area continuing his search. By all indications, Chapman had not yet left New York City. They just needed to fucking find him.

Reese had Stills's shield on him but decided not to risk it, instead taking a more honest approach. Explaining that he was a friend, he showed one of his fake IDs and the cop knocked on Carter's door before walking in. John followed him inside.

"Detective, you have a visitor." Getting the okay in the form of a sleepy smile from the patient, the officer nodded and left the room.

"Hey." Joss's voice sounded drowsy to her own ears but she kept the smile on her face because she was genuinely glad to see him. She felt gratified when he smiled back. It seemed like it'd been too long since she'd seen him smile. Her thoughts went back to the reason why but she quickly shut it down.

John stood at the foot of her bed taking her in. Her hair was wild, her skin looked dull, her eyes looked tired. One arm was in a sling and he counted at least three bandages that he could see. She looked vulnerable and weak and it pained him because he'd never seen her in such a state before. But her smile was beautiful and contagious and he knew for certain, finally, that she was going to be okay. Still, he was struggling to find words. She was in that hospital bed because he'd asked her to help them. And he'd been avoiding her because she'd rejected him after….that night. How was this supposed to go?

"I look like hell I know."

He gave a tiny shrug. "I still couldn't compete." He watched her roll her eyes as he rounded the bed and took a seat in the chair already positioned next to her. "Feeling okay?"

She nodded once. "Mmhmm. Drugs are decent."

It was John's turn to nod.

"Didn't sleep last night of course. Nurses in and out of here constantly." She watched him nod again. "I guess you heard about Chapman. The DNA."

He nodded once more.

She turned to look down at her battered body. "Too bad I didn't get the results before I went to lunch, right?" She sighed softly. "But I'll survive." She turned back to him. "At least now we know." She saw him looking down, not meeting her eyes. "Just gotta find him." She noticed she was carrying the conversation and felt the awkwardness of running out of things to say. She decided to ask him some questions to get him to talk. "Did you sleep?"

He raised his eyes back to hers. "Some."

"How much?"

John shrugged his left shoulder. "Few hours."

They both looked toward the door as the nurse came in. Reese immediately stood up and made to leave the room.

"I'll just be a second," the nurse explained. "Just want to check her dressings."

John thought about taking the opportunity to say goodbye. He was feeling emotionally frazzled. Hating that she was hurt, not knowing how to handle the loss of their once easy rapport. Frustrated with their lack of progress in finding the son of a bitch who had done this to her. But she beat him to the punch.

"She'll be done in a second, John."

He could tell by her tone of voice and the look on her face that she expected him to come back in. Refusing her wasn't an option, so he nodded and stepped outside, grateful that the cop standing guard wasn't interested in starting a conversation while he waited. After about five minutes, the nurse smiled at him as she stepped out of the room.

"You can go back in."

John nodded in thanks and took a deep breath before walking back inside. He smiled at Joss again and resumed his position in the chair.

"So what'd you say to my police protection?"

The corner of his mouth turned up shyly. "That I was a friend." The smile quickly fell and he averted his eyes as the weight of what he'd said hit him. It must have hit her, too, because the room fell silent and the elephant appeared.

Joss knew she needed to say something. Had _been_ needing to say something. The ball had been in her court since that day and she needed to do something with it finally. "Well, that wasn't a lie." She waited for him to meet her eyes but he didn't. "Thank you for…..coming to help me." She swallowed and then looked down at her free hand. "I don't really remember the crash…..but I remember you being there."

Reese looked up at her, no hesitation in his demeanor this time. "If I'm able, I'll always be there."

Carter met his gaze, feeling the pinpricks of tears forming. She blamed it on her exhaustion and the drugs. And maybe a little on the fact that his steadfast care for her was more than she'd ever expected from the downtrodden man she'd met at the precinct so many moons ago. "I know." She sighed, gathering up her courage and what little strength she had. Maybe now wasn't the right time to bring it up but when would it ever be the right time? He was here, she had his attention, she'd almost died at the hands of a serial killer, she had the best drugs flowing through her veins, and, honestly, she really was too tired to censor herself. "I'm sorry for…..what happened. For making things weird."

John's heart started pounding in his chest. He wasn't ready to have this conversation. His wound hadn't yet healed. What he said next was automatic, the thing usually said in these situations. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, it was, John."

Joss's phone buzzed on the small table beside her bed and she wanted to hurl it across the room out of frustration. This was difficult enough as it was, and they kept being interrupted. Reaching over, she grabbed her phone. The number was unknown and her curiosity was instantly piqued. "Hello?"

"Detective? John is there with you?"

It was Harold and he sounded animated. "Yes."

"We bluejacked Mr. Kubik's phone. Mr. Chapman has just used a burner phone to contact him for money and a Greyhound bus ticket. They have plans to meet in thirty minutes at the Waterside warehouse by the docks."

There was a beat before he continued.

"This is your case, Detective. I can pass this on to Detective Fusco if you wish."

Joss avoided looking at John who was studying her and the phone call, and probably getting the gist of it from the intense expression on his face. She understood what Finch was doing by telling her first. If they wanted the best chance of bringing Chapman in alive, they needed to task Fusco, not John, with the responsibility. Carter nodded. "Do it." As soon as she hung up, John was looking at her expectantly and was halfway out of his seat.

"Finch found him. Where is he?" He was out of his chair fully now, ready for action.

"Fusco's got it."

John furrowed his brow, reading the expression on her face and wishing he wasn't seeing it. It suddenly hit him why Harold had called her instead of him. His face hardened. "I need to see this through."

"I can't see it through. I'm stuck here. Just stay here with me."

Reese tried to argue. "He murdered six women and he tried to kill you. I can't let that go." He turned to leave. If Finch wouldn't tell him, Fusco would.

"What about the families, John? The victims' families. They deserve to confront him in that courtroom. They deserve that closure." She breathed a sigh of relief when that stopped him in his tracks.

John's body hummed with barely contained tension. He had spent nearly 24 hours with one thing on his mind: finding and disposing of Tom Chapman so that he couldn't hurt her or anyone else again. To do the thing he used to do, for a reason he knew with absolute certainty was just. But she was taking it away from him.

"Wait with me. Please." She watched the fight leave him, watched him clench his fists as he stood just feet from the door. She was glad because the fight had left her, too. What little energy she'd had was just about gone.

She was right, of course, John thought. He was being selfish. It was all about her for him, not the other victims really. About how Chapman had re-entered his life and almost took her from him in two different ways. About how he wanted to take all of his frustration with both himself and Chapman out on Chapman alone.

He turned to face her, the slight smile she put on her face for him, her eyelids that were starting to droop. And slowly walked back over to the chair he had previously occupied.

Joss turned her head toward him. "Thank you." She felt compelled to lighten the mood a bit. "I can keep my eye on you. Make sure you're staying out of trouble."

He decided to make the effort, too, and smirked. "Ditto."

Her eyes closed for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she tried to focus on him. "We gonna be okay?"

He gave her the answer she was looking for. The one that wouldn't upset her. He nodded and watched her accept his response gratefully.

"Good." Her voice was heavy with drowsiness as she sighed deeply. "We messed up…...I'm just ready for things to get back to normal….."

John swallowed. _We messed up. Back to normal._ She didn't realize it but each word was stabbing him in the heart. The pain hit him hard and was indescribable. In spite of how she'd run away from him, a tiny irrational part of him still had hope that she wanted to be with him. He almost wished they could go back to the uncertainty and awkwardness from before. He almost wished he'd never stopped by to visit her. He had been so happy to see that she was going to be okay, only for her to turn around and shatter him into a million pieces.

 _We messed up._ Like it never happened.

 _Back to normal._ It would never happen again.

He watched as her eyes closed again, this time staying closed.

* * *

Joss's phone buzzed on the table again. It had been an hour and a half and she was still asleep. John would have left already—he wanted to as soon as she'd fallen asleep really—but he'd agreed to stay with her until they got news of Chapman's apprehension so he had stayed put.

He had bided his time surfing the internet on his phone and piecing himself back together again.

He leaned over and picked up the phone to see if it was important. The caller ID indicated that Fusco was calling so he answered. "Fusco."

"John? How's she doing?"

He glanced at her. "She's asleep. Do you have him?"

"We got him."

"Alive?"

"Alive. But we got him dead to rights for these murders and what he did to Carter."

Reese nodded to himself. "Nice going, Lionel."

"Yeah. Let Carter know for me. I'll be in to see her a little later today."

"Will do." Ending the call, Reese set the phone back on the table and turned to look at Carter. He didn't want to wake her. She needed the rest so her body would heal. But there was no telling how long she would be out. He assumed her mother would be back at any time and he preferred not to be here. And he did have a number he needed to be watching.

He stood up and leaned over her bed. "Joss?" He rested one hand on the top of the bed and used the other to brush her cheek.

She grunted and shifted, wincing with the motion. Her eyes opened into a squint as she focused on him.

He kept his hand on her cheek. "Fusco called. They got him."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Congratulations, Detective." She smiled softly and he let his eyes roam her face. He'd put himself back together, but he was still in love with this woman. It probably wasn't going to be possible to stop. He'd just…..have to deal.

She lifted her free hand to weakly cover his. "Thanks for staying with me. Even though I fell asleep on you."

He smiled back, his eyes darting between hers. "I have to go."

She nodded. "Stay out of trouble."

"I will if you will."

She chuckled at that, stopping abruptly when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers briefly.

"I'll be in touch."

Too surprised to speak, she only nodded and watched as he left the room. And just like that she was reminded of everything she was running away from.

* * *

"You think he's Dixie Mafia?" Carter asked quietly over the diner table.

Reese shook his head. "Doesn't make sense."

Finch slid Carter's file folder back across to her. "Even so, it still doesn't explain Ms. Searcy's disappearance." He paused for a moment. "I'm going to have to take a different approach."

Carter sighed, taking the folder and sliding out of the booth. "Well, I gotta get going. You know where to find me."

"Thank you, Detective."

Carter walked out of the diner, pulling her car keys from her pants pocket. She needed to run to the grocery store to pick up some things for the dinner she was going to make tomorrow, drop them off at home, and then get ready to attend her friend Nova's spoken word performance in Brooklyn.

However, once she settled into the driver's seat of her SUV, her plans immediately got shot to hell. The damn car wouldn't start. After trying pointlessly for a solid minute, pounding her fist on the steering wheel and letting out a few curses for good measure, she looked up and saw John and Harold exiting the diner. Stepping out of the car, she waved her hand over her head to garner their attention. They both looked over but John said something to Harold and they soon parted ways, Harold heading for his vehicle and John heading towards her.

"It won't start," she stated in explanation.

John nodded. "Did it turn over?"

"Yeah, so I'm guessing it's not the battery?"

He nodded again. "Pop the hood for me."

Doing as she was told, she went back to stand next to him as he did his inspection and asked her questions.

It had been two and a half months since her hospitalization. She had healed and gone back to work and things were mostly back to normal. Finch and John still hit her up for information, still handed her and Fusco giftwrapped criminals. But she couldn't say that things were back to normal between her and John. For a reason she knew deep down, they didn't seem to be able to get past what they'd done. He was always distant, and it took this moment right now for her to realize that they were never alone with one another anymore. Finch was usually there with them, or it was her and John talking over the phone.

John got behind the wheel and turned the key, then headed toward the back of the car to listen to something. When he was finished, he headed back toward her. "I think it's the fuel pump. Maybe the relay."

She watched as he went to the front of the car and let down the hood. He then pulled his phone from his pocket and it wasn't long before she realized he was calling for a tow for her. To an address she didn't recognize.

Once he hung up, he put his phone back into his pocket and then dug out his keys, holding them out to her. "I'll wait for the tow. Take my car."

She shook her head. "No, John, I can wait. I know you have things you need to do." She watched as he ignored her and walked to the driver's side of her car, leaning in and pulling out her work bag. He then took her by the elbow and started leading her toward his car. "John…."

"It's fine, Carter. Just take it."

She probably would have argued some more but she was beginning to feel some type of way. He was taking care of her, like he always did, doing something her man would do if she had a man….A warmth spread within her and she felt her resolve start to slip.

When they approached his nondescript black sedan, he unlocked the doors with the key fob and opened the driver's side door, tossing her bag into the passenger's seat. He stood in front of her and held the key out to her again. After she finally accepted it, he clarified his intentions. "I'll take it to the shop we use. Should get it back to you some time tomorrow."

Still a little overwhelmed, Joss thanked him, unable to take her eyes away from his. Since that line had already been crossed and trampled over once, it didn't take much for her to act on the urge to touch him. She stepped into his personal space, pulled his head down while she rose to the tips of her toes, and kissed him softly. She pressed her lips to his for only a few seconds, but it was enough to remind her of that reason. That reason they would never be the same and could never go back to the way things were. Her feelings for him were just refusing to let up no matter how much time had passed.

John stood motionless. She had surprised him, thrown him off balance, reminded him of what he still yearned for. He wanted nothing more than to press her against the car and take her lips again, to bulldoze his way through the tiny opening she had just given him. But he held himself still. He couldn't go down that road again. It probably didn't even mean what he thought it meant. It was probably just a kiss of gratitude, nothing more, nothing less.

He let the thoughts take hold in his mind, talked himself away from the ledge, but she was still standing there. Alive and captivating and desirable. With those big brown eyes that always understood him. But why weren't they understanding him now? Why wasn't she seeing how he was struggling with loving her when he couldn't have her?

He found some inner strength to resist her that he didn't know he had and walked away, not trusting himself enough to utter a word. The weather was mild. He would wait outside with her car until the tow truck arrived, ride with the driver to the shop. Then get on the subway and head back to the library. He would get back to work.

He heard the sedan's car door shut, but he didn't hear the engine start, nor the sound of the tires on gravel as she drove away. And every step he took away from her didn't net him any distance from her. She was following him.

Everything about this situation was driving him mad. She wouldn't leave. She just wouldn't leave him alone. She stayed in his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to push her out and now she wouldn't leave his space. He couldn't take it anymore and he couldn't hold it in any longer. She asked for this, she asked for normalcy. She had to give him what he needed.

He turned to face her once they reached her car.

"John—"

He cut her off. "Carter." The words uncharacteristically came pouring out. "I'm trying here. You…" He shook his head helplessly. "I don't want to be just your friend. I need….time…..so I can get there." He sighed and looked away. "I need more time."

Joss's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. John never expressed his feelings. At least not to her. And he'd just recited a whole novel's worth in a few words. He was struggling like she was struggling. Only he thought he was alone in the battle when he wasn't. She couldn't help herself and reached out to touch his forearm to bring his attention back towards her. "This is hard for me, too." She took a ragged breath, his courage giving her courage. "I don't want to be just your friend either but this is….." She shook her head incredulously. "You are…...an outlaw. You're dead on paper. I'm not supposed to be having anything to do with you…..I know you've been involved in shit that I can't even imagine…..You act insane half the time, the things you do…..You're always so….tense and you make me tense….." She looked away from him and shook her head to herself. "But then you do stuff like today and…..I know underneath all that," she turned back to him. "You're just trying to do something good. I can't even imagine the world without you."

John stood there, motionless from shock once again. He could barely process what was happening, what was being said to him, about him. The tears starting to form in her eyes, in his eyes.

Carter shook her head again and looked down at her feet, a short nervous laugh bubbling out of her. "So what now?"

He carefully constructed his response. "I can try to be….less tense."

She looked up at him, at the smirk on his face, and she couldn't contain her smile. "No, you can't." She knew he meant to make her smile, but he had also answered her question. He wanted to try. She looked around, suddenly wondering if anybody was watching them, and spotted a tow truck. "That was quick."

John followed her line of sight. "Yeah." He waited for it.

She turned back to him. "I don't even know where you live."

He smiled. He got it.

He stepped toward her, drawing his index finger along her jaw before leaning down and brushing his lips across hers. The kiss was fleeting—they had neither time nor space—but it held the promise of everlasting passion, intimacy, and devotion. "Go on. I've got this." He took a step back, his eyes never leaving her form as she walked toward his car, eyeing him over her shoulder.

By the time she settled behind the steering wheel, feeling terrified and exhilarated, she had a text of an address. And a question.

She blushed and looked at him through the windshield, still watching her. Full speed ahead. Why was she even surprised.

She looked down at her phone and began to type.

 _Belgian waffles, scrambled eggs, strawberries, and you._

~The End

A/N: Thanks for reading.


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